That greater darkness creeps receptive

fatigue and that is where the lost are

living. Denial is a weary mistress.

Mistress takes no prisoners. Denial

is impetuous. Americans live in a dreamy

sleep even as the night has ended, where

is the light. There is no light. We are the

comatose. Our children are the comatose.

Our parents were the comatose. We are

hyenas in the scramble of it. The raw meat

of MAGA is one candle in a burning of how

many of his witches this time, too. You and

you and you and you. He decides who will be

burned and there are MAGA soldiers who

have no problem enforcing his madness and

its thunder as he slips the millstones around

our necks. They want their pound of flesh.

And Middle America has been wrong about

a lot of things. Middle America wants us dead.

We are the rot they talk about. We are the people

they want to execute, and we better be afraid

because if we are afraid, they can bask in the

inherent glory of it. How dare we leave them

outside the Gates of Beautiful. They’re done

with begging so they might enter the lion’s den.

What is a diaspora. Did we really think it would

not come here. So, how did denial work out for

you. As a lame dog with wings.