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Plasticity

earth week came and went, and the people squabbled and held hands as usual. another dollar passed up the ladder to the executives, and i took a fat drag off my cigarette butt.

every day we wait and watch, we hold our breath, or we grip bloodily to the flag of our nation, praying for survival. are industries choking dissent and selling a way of life? are you capitulating your plasticity?

we make things that never die, no. we make things that die so slowly, so horribly, that they infiltrate and irradiate all the tissues of the bodies. we are complicit only in our helpless ingestion, our ensnared and chain-linked selves. someone buy me a box of Kleenex, i need to throw something away.

i have spent most of my life: on waste. filling and filing and clogging up drains. shuffling it away or burning it off, holding bloodily to the flag of our nation. i am human, and it’s the pits. i can’t get an arm in leg-wise.

and it’s not the point. do we need another material that can bend, snap, and contain? do we need another liquid proof, ridiculous substrate for to pour all our pain into? do we know what we are doing?

no.

we don’t see the rivers clogged and the bodies bloated and the burning when we sit in a lab with our branded polymer chains. we ask for forgiveness without taking off our birthday hats, still singing a copyrighted song. i don’t expect you to understand: you know i don’t.

but i’ll be here no matter what. the sky could turn black, perhaps it will. the forests will burn, perhaps they have. the earth will turn. i’ll wake up again.

so for now i’ll stop. yelling into voids in the pavement, wracking my brain for excellent palatable mass marketable versions of eternity. it’s enough to dig in the dirt, once or twice, to feed my dog. one day we run together.

awbry
class o’ 22
a 24 year-old non-binary artist from a white upper middle class family in new england

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