All images courtesy of my scanner + typewriter after a cool photography mag I found at B&N - I will cite when I find
Not a poem about what ended up happening a year or so later in 2025 that I had no idea was coming. Not at all.
The Food is Nutrient Depleted and So Is The Culture
We're watching the system tear apart and try to take us along with it
But They Don't Scare Me
And our children. And their children. And theirs.
And So We Choose Not to Have Children
A poem to the company that rejected my ESA letter showing not just how poetically but also objectively (I was breathing, wearing my dead dad's white gold) my life stays alive bc sometimes when I turn around Apollo is there just chillin while the world burns. Why? Because if our pets can matter to our lives then next we can say our children matter. And if our children can matter in a quantifiable way maybe we could prove we shouldn't have to pay existential fees on them and might even dare to dream that they're valuable enough to be guaranteed care vs. being dissuaded from having children bc of the Constant Capitalist Literal Existential Fees. *Courtesy of update 2025 where we invent more ways to charge you to exist because whotf is going to stop us nana nana boo boo meanwhile if a single mom of one wants to feed their kid green things their grocery bill is something like $1k/mo because apparently the rent is going up for the material and the made up world at the exact. same. time. PLEASE TELL ME IMAGINATION ISN'T IMPORTANT AGAIN. (Is the perpetuated lie clear yet? Do you get the calculus of the disenfranchised? Do you also understand that math is made up? Yeah. I didn't really get that either. We just make it up. Like language.) It goes without saying SO LET'S MAKE SHIT UP. Not fuck shit up. Create shit. Construct the world we desire vs EXTINCT BY EXISTENTIAL FEES. Because a fee can be a verb because we make it up we make it up we. make. it. up.