Who are you to ask the world to not be cruel? Look around you. Life IS cruelty. You want to think you can rise above it because you have a bigger brain than a deer has. But it's the same shit. Same game, different arena. In ours, it is easier to convince yourself that things should be good, that the world should make you smile.
Look at the hyenas. They don't expect shit from life, and they are doing great. Lower your standards. Subvert your expectations. Expect the ugliness that is sure to come. Then, you won't be surprised - you won't be thrown off. Expect the worst and you're never wrong. You can manifest anything.
That's the animal in man.
It’s like that thing, expect the worst and you can’t be disappointed!! Awesome.
ReplyDeleteVickie J
So good, and chilling. Wish I could be a hyena.
DeleteThat first line is a killer.
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ReplyDeleteI am a citizen. I was born here. I have a wife. I have a child in school.
ReplyDeleteThe words screamed in Marco’s head, but he could neither speak nor hear, not since the accident so many years ago. He only knew something bad was happening when the bay doors swung open and a hoard of men in black, faces covered, spilled onto the factory floor. He saw their mouths moving in anger, eyes flashing like cold flint against rock. His coworkers stood frozen in fear. There was a back exit and Marco thought of that, but the men were standing there, too. Hard like toy soldiers but the guns were real. He knew about real guns. It was why his parents left Colombia. All these men had guns. In the back. In the front. Herding him and his coworkers like cattle. Like cattle that became the cuts of meat they sorted in the factory.
I am a citizen. I was born here. I have a wife. I have a child in school.
A man who looked to be the boss of the other men was shouting. He waved a black-clad arm. A knot of men and women, those he’d worked alongside for twelve-hour shift after twelve-hour shift, aproned and gloved and masked and also with family working alongside them, also with wives and husbands, with children in school, jostled against him, and he looked from face to face for someone to tell these men that Marco could not say the words he needed to protect him from what was happening. To protect his friends.
He got pushed and shoved and he could only watch while brown hands were secured behind work-bent backs.
I am a citizen. I was born here. I have a wife. I have a child in school.
Once restrained, the men in black with ICE on their bullet proof vests, as if anyone in here had a gun, aimed them out the door. He saw a slice of the parking lot and saw the black vans there, the flashing lights.
He saw Gabriella, a shy pretty girl all of seventeen also born here but grateful to make some money to help support her family, her face contorted with sobs, as they led her away. His chest ached that he couldn’t save her.
He opened his throat, moved his tongue and lips, like if he pushed hard enough, the words would come out, but they didn’t.
A man yanked Marco’s arms behind him, causing pain in his shoulders, and only a primal instinct had him attempt to cry out.
He turned to look at the man. If he was to go like this, at least he deserved to see who was doing this to him.
The man’s mask had slid down. The man was brown like him. He would not meet his eye.
I am a citizen. I was born here. I have a wife. I have a child in school.
JD, describes me to a T. You think I'd have learned by now.
ReplyDeleteLaurie, we've dark days ahead.
ReplyDelete