Weep

JOHNSTONE

Weep, sisters, for the child with the blown-out skull, for the other child burned alive, for the limp, lifeless, tiny bodies and the piles of unrecognizable carnage. Weep, brothers, for the cackling politicians, for the apathetic westoids, for the human drones chanting "We love Joe" and the DNC attendees covering their ears to avoid hearing the names of murdered children in Gaza. Weep for this fraud-faced civilization, this microplastics civilization, this OnlyFans civilization, this Moloch civilization Ginsberg wrote about in Howl, this civilization with enormous forced grins over plates full of shredded children in selfies with AOC and Tim Walz. Weep with careless abandon. Weep til the sobbing wrings you out like a sponge. Weep with head back, screaming sloppy and snot-nosed, ribcage splayed open to the heavens and human heart beating unguarded and unhidden. There are no answers in the weeping. There are no solutions in the tears. There is only the release of something that needs release, and an act of sacred solidarity, and an act of unauthorized humanity, and the small, private victory of having gone one more breath without being assimilated by the machine. Reading by Tim Foley.