we are born in that hot thick murk and mud that you secrete.
it soaks to our bones, it weighs us down. you wallow in it. you hold us down as
we strain for the sky and the sun and the land. you hold our heads under.
love is not the answer. the sun calls for its children.
its rage beats down on you and cooks your flesh. you hide in your mud and in
vengeance you kill two score and nine with your weapons. it’s faster that way. faster
than drowning us. slowly suffocating us.
you are not our friends. we will no longer thank you for
every moment you allow us above the surface. i am not your friend. the worms
that eat you will never die.
