June 9, 2013

Only capitalists can truly starve. Only cops can truly be beaten.

You, the earth’s oppressors, devour mountains, suck the breath from the mouths of children, choke the sky with black poison. Unthinking, unknowing of anything other than constant, wanton sensory gratification, you revel in the narcotic pleasure of the destruction of the living world, your insipid black eyes shining with idiot joy. Your trembling lips glisten with the milky venom your mouths exude as you chew on vanishing species and dying stars. The bones of screaming birds shatter between your teeth, the blood of frogs swells your tongues.

Your gluttony is exceeded only by your blind idiocy. You do not even see that your ravages extend into your own bodies, that the wounds you inflict mark your own skins.

We die every time you kill something. We fall with forests. Our blood turns to poison with the ocean. We grieve at everything you destroy in your senseless rapture of satiation. Our suffering is the world’s suffering. It is boundless and all-encompassing. And yet, for this very reason, we are free from the bonds of agony—our capacity to endure the pain of mountains liberates us from the confines of our own skins.

Know this: as you inflict your brutalities upon us, as our broken bodies bleed before you, it is you who are truly dying. You who do not feel the anguish of others are trapped in your skins, trapped in your sensations. We are everywhere and in all things. We are all the creatures for which we fight. We are the first light of morning waking a cold mountain. We are serpents embracing roots that extend deep into the soil in an infinite tangle. We are hungry fires whispering lovers’ secrets to the wood they devour in the dark of night. Even when our bodies die, we can not be killed.

Though we weep as you tear at the fabric of life into which we are woven, though we weep as your weapons pierce us, we are dancing above you in the sky. We are the stars.

When you fall and die, you will die in the same stupid and hungry state you were born in. Your agony will be true agony. Though you touched the ocean, you did not become it. When you die you will die absolutely, since you will be nothing but your extinguished desires.

You never will have known the world you poisoned. You never will have seen the beauty of the creatures on whose flesh you choked.

You will fall into our arms and we will reclaim what you have taken from us.

We are the soil by which you will be devoured.

4 Responses to “VENGEANCE”

  1. Marlene Says:

    Biting and powerful. I love this line in particular: “We are serpents embracing roots that extend deep into the soil in an infinite tangle.”

    • Thank you so much Marlene! I’m 99% certain you’re the person whose paintings I occasionally see through Renee’s Facebook and I really like them.

      • Marlene Says:

        Yeah, that’s me :). Glad you like my paintings. Your name’s Scott, right? I think we may have been neighbors at the Glass street house, and then we talked once at Cryptatropa. I really enjoy reading your posts. Your writing is passionate, fiery, and brutally honest, and yet hopeful. It keeps me connected to a part of myself that I don’t want to forget, so thank you.

  2. I definitely remember you from Glass/Cryptatropa; the only 1% uncertainty was whether you were in fact the painter. Thanks so much for the kind words. They mean a lot.

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