Wednesday, January 16, 2019
What It Does
What it does to you is a thing you would not want done to you. Not by any stretch of the time we fell under the sway of ending.
You’re here and be grateful it’s not you either. Should you see them coming to the end of your tether, look away. That you no longer trust each other they take for granted. They’ll grant it you as a given of their supposedly benign presence. Look away. And think only this: What was is the future we hope for.
Mutterings may console. And who do they expect to fool with these arguments that I for one find utterly persuasive?
We are in the place where all fear the one thing that has happened already.
Check out my Idiocy, Ltd. and begin the long, hard reckoning.
Posted by Eric Mader at 1:34 PM No comments:
Labels: prose poem
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