In State

That mug could be etched onto coins if only conscience failed to intercede and money-changers picked their totems with less attention to global schemes. Funny how cold metal splatters all the bravest brains looking to level out opportunity based on skill rather than birth. They lie flowers upon another grave to repel the notion that billions of free minds would be better than sacrifice to the gods of consumerism, trend and all the noble platitudes of today's abundant derivatives offering salvation at the cost of tomorrow's beneficent hope. Already, they've begun to wither without the purity of fluid pure in purpose since husks lying in memorial always convey the stench of potential destroyed at the hands of plunderers convinced of righteous manipulation like a condescending slap to the teeth. Stern faces propel blasts skyward as if I'm supposed to forget the arc that sends those pellets, like my spirit, propelling back to the Earth once more in reverence for the ricochet penance that pulls so pernicious that every molecule feels unnecessarily bound.