2 Minutes. Go!

For whatever reason, I grew up thinking that I was a bad person. I thought everyone around me was in on something I wasn't. I felt this way well into my thirties. Come to find out, I am basically a saint compared to the sick, twisted fucks who run this country.

I thought I was shady, but I have been honest about my flaws, my shortcomings. I have never tried to hide any of it, and I have NEVER hurt someone else just because I could or because they had something I wanted. 

I do not steal, and I don't think anyone should. I will also tell you the truth if you ask me a question. I'll tell you the truth even if you don't ask.

I didn't know how many people lie so easily. 

I grew up feeling guilty, but not knowing what I was guilty of. Now, I see that there are people everywhere who are predators, users, cheats and abusers. They don't feel guilt, and I just can't wrap my mind around that. It doesn't make any sense to me. 

I'm tired of this. Frankly, I just want off the ride. Tell the carnies. They don't even have to stop the cars, I'll jump out while they're moving. 

Anything to get away from these humans and their sick, sad "humanity."

2 Minutes. Go!

I'll try to explain it to my grandchildren...how we broke the unbreakable. How we took an ideal that the world respected and shit on it. How some people hated a few folks more than they loved everyone. I'll show them pictures of kids in ICE custody, and I'll ask them to wrap their minds around it if they can...how selfish misery can poison the communal well.

They'll have questions, and I'll tell them about their great-grandfathers signing up to fight the Nazis in WWII. I'll show them that history moves in cycles...I'll allow them to see what I have come to learn: People are selfish and small. Most people are just trying their best, but there are some who want to bend the universe to their will. Indulge their dark desires.

They will pass on. But the same philosophies will come to roost, again and again. 

I'll cry with my grandkids. I'll hold them as close as I can, and I will try to make sure they see reality...this is not about brown people, this is not about queer people. This isn't even about immigration. It is about the broken taking power, which they are very good at. 

Scruples can be a handicap. I've got tons of them. They make this thing called living pretty tricky, but I wouldn't change it for the world. 

I'll lend a hand to anyone, but I won't stick it up in the air like a fucking fascist for you or anyone else.

Fuck that.

2 Minutes. Go!

You need to hold the knife gently. Delicately. Not with a fist, but with fingers, your pointer finger on the spine of the blade. The blade is sharp. Muscle is not required. In fact, gravity will be more than enough force. Just guide the steel.

A blade this sharp opens flesh like a sigh. A release of tension. It passes through flesh with a whisper. 

If your subject is still living, they might not even feel the cut. Or it will feel like a paper cut. An itch. One can be cut to the bone and not even know it. Of course, if you're cutting dead flesh, delicacy is an afterthought, but the blade must still be sharp. 

Clean cuts, clean mind. Hear the words. Incision. Scalpel. Suture. 

Feel the numb in your throat as one last chunk of Adderal turns to goo in your nose and slithers down your throat. You aren't wearing white. 

You ARE wearing gloves. 

This was pre-ordained. It was already written. 

All that was necessary was the coda.

2 minutes. Go!

The contact was incidental. Skin brushing skin...nothing out of the ordinary except for the electric shock. Not static. It was enough to knock you backward. Enough to put you on your defenses. 

Eels and live wires have more in common than just electricity.

The sound started low...a feeling inside more than a sound, but it grew steadily until it blotted everything out. It triggered something inside you. You acted without thinking. Woke up covered in blood, mouthing the words ACTIVATED - SLEEPER CELL. The ushers took you out back for the slice blade. Throat open.

You don't know anything now. You're dead. 

Reboot.

2 Minutes. Go!

I would like to be a bird because birds aren't human. Even the smart ones are just flying around, sneaking snacks, singing pretty songs. 

They don't do anything wrong.

I'd love to be a fish because fish are just swimming. They live in a world thick with life and crowned with colorful bubbles, but they aren't in any hurry. 

Fish don't got no worries. 

I think I should be a alligator, laying in the sun. I could squirm myself down into the mud and wait for a hapless animal to come by, so I could spin it dead.

Not a stray thought in my goddamn head. 

If I had my druthers, though, I'd be a cat. Cats don't give too much of a shit about anything. Cats are napping when they aren't being apex predators. Veld editors.

Me?

I'm always hiding from creditors.

So, maybe I'll just be ash. Not dust. Dust is chaos. I've seen enough chaos. Ash is noble. 

Ash used to be something. 

2 Minutes. Go!

Oh, lord, it hurts…right down in the meat of my bones, it aches. Day by day, it gets a little worse or I become a little more intolerant of it. I hear noises that aren’t there. I sense the presence of people who never really appear. 

Wondering if you are crazy will drive you crazy. It’s a ride you can’t get off once you have started. Your seatbelt is locked. Fuck around and you might lose and arm. Hell, you might be decapitated!

You smell sulphur on the air. It twists you up inside. Your pulse quickens. 

Man, the bugs on your skin ain’t real, but they will be eventually. Patience. The bugs are more than happy to wait. 

You reach out, but it is like grasping silk. The bulk of it slips through your fingers.

Until finally, you close your eyes.

2 Minutes. Go!

C'mere buddy. Up close. I'm gonna fuck your whole belief system. Close your eyes and open your mouth, I'm gonna shove my whole arm down your throat and pull your insides outside. It don't matter that you think you saw a sign in the clouds, the heavens. None of that means shit, because everyone has their own interpretation. 

So many godly variations.

Let me pull you by the elbow, guide your face into this whirring band saw, let me pour this lacquer into your eyes. Let me cut off pieces of you to add to my collection. 

Listen lady, I know you got your own rage. I just don't care. I tried caring, but it made me too tired. I gave it up, just like I gave up drinking - it was hard, but worth it. 

We can have this conversation anytime. You know where to find me. I'll be here, sharpening my knives until they can slice air. I'll be here with a hatchet and some kerosene. I'll be flexing my fingers and imagining how good it would feel, plucking out your eyeballs.

I'll be waiting for you.