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.
Copyright © Andrew Delapruch | Year Posted 2011
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