To those who know,
It is to you I write today, because I feel we maybe alone in realizing exactly how fucked we are.
Recently, a bus driver said that say they thought a war is coming.
Spoiler warning, you and I know it never wasn’t here.
You know by now, that I like many others am a Civil War Kid.
Thus, War is the condition of the conception of every circumstance of my life, and the source of my fortitude.
War is the only reason I exist today, and my existence, like yours is a victory, a testiment to our forbearers survival of their own personal colonial hells.
These kind of brutal wars are those that bear children to broken people and fore sakes them to broken empty dream houses. In lands, where the on the streets where they watch us, hunt us, see us as animals.
You live in a constant mode of lessons. Your bedtime stories are warnings, your lunchtime chatter is the casual tragedy of horrors yelled into long distance phone calls.
You become a secretary dialling in pins, a living record of cautionary tales.
Going to school, trying to work in a war to gain any semblance of power to protect yourself, let alone the dream of protecting everyone else so that you may simply live and love together, maybe heal.
But it’s meant to break you. Again and again. It’s a deck you want to burn, because it’s stacked not matter how much you shuffle it.
It’s a war of ideas in my fucking schools, when they tell you it’s just banter.
Idiot classmates who parrot. Buffon professors who pose arguments.
Perhaps they even proudly champion ideas. They play devil’s advocate, when they don’t even realize that perhaps the Devil himself is more sympathetic than the Nazis they echo.
But of course, they don’t here themselves. Nor do they know what they say. They’re good people. They’re respectable, nice, open minded people.
Respectably, nice people who feel entitled to demand mules to lay out the obvious to them.
Nice people who back reasons on why I am inherently inferior to their bastion of fake ass democracy and why I shouldn’t fucking allowed to exist, to live, to breathe.
Respectable people will call you emotional.
Nice people will call you hostile.
Open minded people will call you entitled for wanting your full personhood respected.
And you can’t help to think that your capacity for empathy alone warrants you more worthy of respected personhood then them.
And it’s just speech, free speech.
Maybe last night was our Kristallnacht.
We’re being led to the slaughterhouse.
Yet when they bomb mosques, you invite them to serve and protect you. The same fucking police who fucking stand aside and protecting KKK Lynch Mobs and Nazis because they are cut from the same cloth.
They don’t want you here. No matter how much yourself wants to be them.
Wants to be accepted by them. Who wants to be accepted by such people. It says something.
Your brothers and sisters, don’t care about your black ass.
We’re being led to the slaughterhouse and respectable folk will throw every non-complacent person under the bus.
To them, I say this: your silence, your complacency, your respectability won’t save you. The heartbreak of that disappointment is your punishment.
For I hesitate that to say that no single person is perhaps deserving of what is to come next, despite the grave sort of coonery that respectable muslims, black muslims and non black muslims participate in.
But again, who am I to say such thing right.
Perhaps it’ll even make you happy to grovel for empathy desperately at the white feet.
To prove that there’s some good in your White God, the White God of Affluenza and Aspiration to Affluence.
When all this time, your faith in good pure intentions has clamped your eyes to the very simple fact that there is no empathy to be won.
There is no empathy for you, because you will always be one of us.
For us, there’s no outrage, no intervener, no grief. We are foresaken by your White God. Your blasphemy.
You know that. Don’t act like you don’t. You know it.
They will stand. And they will watch. And they will wait to see if they think a war is coming.
They will peek from safety of their grey blinds and creme curtains to see if they can keep their little house and escape unbothered.
While we die to grind our bones into dust for a home we will never own in lands who deploys troops to kill kids who look like you and ban you.
While in our hearts and in our minds we are absent, chained to a home far far away, that we will never know truly know because our tongues fly with wings that our not ours.
We have nowhere to run too.
And they are coming for us.
At this point, most likely there are those who say “don’t let them scare you, don’t let their fear give them power over you”.
To those folks, I ask what makes you think that fear isn’t intently powerful on its own when facing power that you didn’t sanction?
It is fear that is a driver of survival, we have nowhere to run so flight is not an option, neither is shock, the only option if we hope for anything at all is to fight.
Where these fucking Nazis, these Lynch mobs don’t even have the fear to cover their faces and run over those who oppose them.
The time is over to look upon state sanctioned witch hunts of the White-lash and act surprised.
The Press is under attack.
The prison stocks sore under Trump.
Constitutional Civil Rights rights are silently getting swiped away under the commotion of nuclear war.
Whatever is coming, is coming. I don’t want to put a name to it out of horror that saying it makes all closer than it already is.
For those who know exactly what I’m talking about, you know and this post is for the people who know before it’s too late.
The people who have been struggling with this reality.
Perhaps pleasure is to realize that we have kept our humanity in-spite of being constantly defined by being stripped of it.
Perhaps our only pleasure is to see the reckoning.
To have solace in watching it all burn.