Hairline Fracture

you & i are animals spawned from the mud & flailing at one another with blades made of flint & with fists hard bloody knuckles all calloused from fight after fight after fight---for food, for water, for shelter, for women, for men, for money, for kin, for future, for present, for places not yet dreamed of we swing with our eyes closed and keep crashing down upon faces that we will never see unbloodied---at the bottom of this monstrosity of a mountain, a wall, a divide that we cannot climb over, that we cannot yet kick down or blow up, we see the rock sliding down our way & just like the sniveling slaves that we are to our own devices we catch the spinning neon ball and hoist its immense weight back towards the top of this ever increasing slope that is coated with the slickest oil ever discovered---we do this in spit of all that we are really & truly capable of because for some reason we still find it necessary to destroy each other in the name of illusionary creations such as “gods” & “nations,” neither of which anyone can pinpoint on a map or cross over in the night without a president & a preacher marching hand in hand with their thumbs both poised on our naïve pulse & THE BUTTON. the stress is but a hairline fracture developing rapidly into true death for us all.