With fragile ankles
We turn on pointed toe
From the lukewarm rubble
“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.”
― Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
Reduction, a man-made affliction: the queue that holds abundant room for cruel intentions and harsh realities. Snapshots of the transparent and apparent blanket everything with a blasé gesso malaise when properly prepared hushes questions of right, leaving blank stares as empty armless hugs, known as the huddle: an odd semblance of warmth. The Deplorables distinguished as righteous, the righteous disguised as deplorable share in the madness and madness: a never-ending role of one in the sameness.
“It’s sickening how The Machine treats the individual parts.”
— June Gloom, The Gray Zone