Our culture is on life support, floating, detached.
I want to cut the strings and watch it burst in the atmosphere.
I want to pull the plug and kill it.
I want to disenchant and point out everything that is no longer possible.
Euclid’s equation will never find those disappearing dollars or the disappearing earth.
It’s post ironic
p hacking the whales away, whispering dotted lines in case they get coded into the floor plans of the Pentagon.
I believe nothing, not even your truth as you sit all soft and gooey on a stick by the fire
I point out learned helplessness is important now, along with a walk in the woods.
People collect test tubes like they’re wonders of nature and talk loudly of empiricism,
whilst we whisper invisable lies so they don’t get caught.