You are breathless in this flesh blind and forgetful and partially deaf pulled by the nose across the globe like cattle aching from a boundless hunger which is really only questions
Why I? Why now? Why pain? Why at all?
And you are marching toward that carrot straight into the mouths of cannibals that live in your peripheral vision in the foreground in the background in the space in between your eyes
They are a mist coating you with a mask that you mistake for your reflection
So when you hear, A man was shot today A man was lynched today A street vendor was bulldozed today A woman was raped today A child...
You say, "That is out there"
But how many times can you walk a circle? and not know that You are the corpse The wrinkled street vendor The strange fruit The woman sawed in two The child The child The child?
How many times how fast can you walk a circle before crashing into yourself?