Saturday, December 16, 2017

Am I Alive?

I know I shouldn’t have to ask, but sometimes it’s hard to tell the living from the dead.
The poetry pours from me like blood, semen, piss and shit.
It’s not a sign of life, but sometimes you just have to take what you can get.

Let’s lose ourselves down the rabbit hole.
Alice called and wants her looking glass back.
Jack the Ripper called and said thanks for not putting up too much of a fight.

The Republicans have finally proven beyond the shadow of any doubt party before country no matter what, no matter who gets dead.
It’s the five year anniversary of Sandy Hook. We mustn’t celebrate our inability or ineffectiveness to make a difference.
This goes triple for you President Obama who proved just how dangerous hope can be when used as a dowsing rod to locate a nation’s sweet spot and then exploit it for their own political means.

Are we alive?
Does it matter if we’re only normalizing our horror until the spilling of blood becomes our national pastime like the trafficking of children and the privatization of our morality?
Proof of life is overrated especially when the air is unbreathable, the water is undrinkable and you’re a ghost walking around in someone else’s skin.

Charles Cicirella

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