Memo to Monstrosity

Addicted to amnesia, we are the self appointed monarchs of a planet that lived and died five times before we arrived. We love to forget that we know nothing. Drunk on habituation, bonded to socialization. Plugged in and sleepwalking in the haze of coded platforms and virtual personalities. We gorge ourselves on hate disguised as justice, choke on violence rather than dare to dwell in discomfort; to demand peace and persist, to insist and resist without prejudice, to face difference and coexist. To accept that home is a condition and not a location. To pay the price for admission: accountability for community. No. We love to set our fears on fire, to aim a loaded gun where the cross points, to paint a pretty picture with the aftermath. Because. We love to forget. Tell me, what story would you like to leave behind in the dust of us? Are we made of stars and mud just to repeat the same mistakes? War is easy and bewitching; pours Death down our throats and calls it curative. The leash gags and calls for a slow, tireless severing with a homemade blade. We would feel every thread snap, feel all the pain we compartmentalize. But what if we dared? To be brave? I wonder. What could happen if we remembered what it means to be human? What a world it could be.