Sunday, August 23, 2015

search party.

the strange man
who looked at the sun and wondered about a past he had
never believed he had? it was his sun, and this sun

was his past. a long time ago:

lured from a sanctuary, holding the hand
of a stranger from a subway train. obviously, this could be about
you, me, or anyone. it is about king arthur.

the stranger from the subway shot the strange man with
poisonous darts, then dragged his head from the scene and ran.

the strange man's bodies decomposed into its
skeletal frame within hours. he wondered
if this was because it was in the sun. his great roar searched
and searched for his head so he could eat the sun.
because he was blind
and falling apart into gelatinous inkiness, his giant strides

killed everyone in his path. he did not care. he did not
believe in anything other than tension anymore-

deceits. eventually he was caught and put down
with a special recipe kept in a special place, reserved
for if this were to ever happen.

his head was never found. it was believed it was sold
on the black market trade with the goods of the
many cheap bodies of
trafficked girls, and political protesters buried in hills. their

fates all seemed to be...mangy. like it could be
that way one day- like mine and like yours.

the buying and selling of these goods were
useful for filling the mysterious and unaccepted voids of mean people
who were used to helping structure their
makeshift economical systems. otherwise, they only suffered

from information overload, money, and the hearts on their sleeves. well,
i guess that's a lot of suffering, though, suffering

cannot be measured- it is suffering, nevertheless. however,
there is no justice.
it remains unclear who is responsible for justice.

i may not have found my own justice, either, or have even
learned to justify without feeling like my intentions were
ignoble in the first place- my fate is mangy. but i'm still going to love this earth.