Dumpster Diving On Farwell

Once the police began to ban all social gatherings, we decided to reignite the ritual of barbarism crucial at the core of survival without compassion or cause of duty, simply to have something destructive to do that didn't land us behind the grid to be silenced. Cruelty gets harnessed in fists compressing the void like the nothings we were always deemed to be on our side of normalcy, just parallel to every other street named after a plague or society- collapsing fire or market tumble, running ramshackle into destiny. As the lines of communication get tossed aside by fearful minds raiding, even the act of standing firm becomes a challenge to the status of plenty. Each sting rebuilds my structure anew in memory and scar tissue to capture the element not boxed for barter or sale: my immortality.