the only way to get things done is to
pray for a riot.
go pick up a brick, throw it at yourself.
but fuck it: we need something in addition
to violence or voting;
a new panic. a riot of our collective soul.
there, by the fading light of a hidden flame,
just left of the righteous oblivion,
repair yourselves.
fallen swords and dreams,
washed out in a random night sky,
lost and afraid.




prompt that inspired this