war rot

[swampwater]

the days have gotten shorter and despite the short burst of springtime my body says we're still mired in the long ugly winter. waking up in the early morning i don't find many reasons to get up, but i don't find any reasons to go back to sleep either. so i wipe the sleeplessness out of my eyes and stay sitting on the edge of my grey mattress watching it rain through the crack between wall and curtain. i look at the blank tv screen wondering if anyone is being killed live via sattellite at that moment. i'm not doing anything to protest this absurdity anymore, save one hand-painted sign i propped up in the back window of my car, even before it started i felt like all efforts were useless. but i still have that constant worry in my belly, a sick tremble like too much burnt coffee in my stomach, a growing hatred towards the journalism profession losing all traces of a calling and becoming one more greasy industry

and so it goes, one more truncated paragraph but i'll just post this one instead of letting it dissipate... but i gotta go now, the tracking device installed under my skin is emitting some sort of high frequency