He tells his story
but abstracts everything so
no one can know him.
Slightly, constantly. It shines and arises from the blacks of our eyes. The distant siren reminds me of things that we put in the back of our own minds, it’s fine.
Slightly, constantly. It’s not for the image, but only to erode… a little bit more, it’s funny how distinct they seem; the cracks on the floor.
Slightly, constantly. You’re not so exact, you’re not so inviting. The setting, off-kilter, what a shame that they see you as strictly off-boundaries.
Slightly, constantly. It shines and the fumes are slowly killing you. Your face is numb so you know that it’s working —- both vices are doing just what you paid them to.
Slightly, constantly. Maybe your idea of “god” died at age ten. A decade has passed and you still feel the same. Maybe the nightmares were right, the kind where your headaches were as vivacious as your crayola crafts.
Slightly, constantly. The trauma consumes as good times try and fight it. I’m afraid because I myself played Benedict to former. I ordered myself to be overrun by the spikes.
Slightly, constantly. At this point.. nothing seems to work anymore. The voices all seem to turn into blurs. Another, another until I find a voice of reason.
Slightly, constantly. Refill and refill until the insects stop biting. The marks are so clear that I can’t help but remember..
Slightly, constantly. How many will it take for me to stop crying? Accept the knowing that there is no knowing, delight in the aftertaste of bright… cyanide.
Slightly, constantly. Even poetry can’t express my wanting to die.
Prim & proper &
awaiting the hounds to
do me in
this brutal vacancy
is tearing & eviscerating
one can’t help but to
appreciate the utter
banality of it all
Prim & proper &
awaiting the riot
expecting ferocity in wake
I feel cliché
typical gloom masking
the view fog dense
powerful like I’m
being led down a comfortable
road to trauma oh my
companion will fade into gray
& the lust from her lips
now a diminishing shade
expect some cracks &
stains in what was
once a pious & holy place
forever indicating a shift
in empathy these words
mean nothing now a
How sad for the poor people profiting from animal cruelty, they won’t be able to drive to the grocery store.
Thank god for liberationists, and thank god for the impacts that direct action liberation has had on numerous animal testing facilities and enterprises, fur farms, and other exploitative and cruel industries.
And fuck anyone for thinking that objects or feelings matter more than lives.
Bolded for emphasis.
I just can’t seem to find any form of sympathy for people who directly cause animal cruelty for the sake of human profit and greed. The difference between somebody who buys mouth wash and a vivisectionist is that while both fund animal cruelty, the latter directly causes it. The difference between somebody who buys a hamburger and a cattle rancher is that while both fund animal cruelty, the latter directly causes it. These are the kind of people who have already become desensitized to such violence and they’re not going to suddenly change because this is a business to them. People who say things like “If I don’t see it, I won’t ask where it came from” still have a chance to be enlightened/confronted with the grim horrors of what really goes on in the meat/dairy industries and labs but for people whose job/career/profession inherently involves the exploitation/torture/abuse of animals, (that they were completely aware of in choosing themselves) of course they’re gonna know the hardships that the animals go through, they hear (and deliver) the screams themselves, they see (and spill) the blood themselves, to them; these animals are products and commodities alone, and being understanding isn’t gonna change their mind; not if it affects their $$$.
Liberation needs civil disobedience. People like this can hear about the facts and figures all day but they won’t give a shit, their opinion about animal rights will remain irrelevant, for consumers who have their blinders closed; there is still a chance for awareness and outreach but for ones whose main profession is rooted in pain and suffering, pamphlets and tumblr arguments are just not gonna evoke a powerful response, especially when we seem to always have to be careful about what we say in order to not offend. We can’t even say holocaust (note: not THE Holocaust) to describe the mass murder of animals on a daily basis without offending people. We can’t even say enslavement to describe the multitude of animals locked up and in cages without offending people. We can’t even say “rape racks” (note: an actual term used and utilized by ranchers and farmers) to describe the forced insemination of animals without offending people. Even trying to compare suffering to suffering brings tension and uprising within the community. Animal suffering must always go through a Human suffering filter and that doesn’t seem right to me, because the opposite would never fucking ever happen.
I’m not calling for the torture and destruction of vivisectionists and cattle/fur/farm ranchers/etc, Andie.. but I’m not gonna feel an ounce of pity for them, their feelings or their property.
I hope I can save up enough money to buy a motorcycle so I can crash it into a tree and die. I’ll be that bad-boy heart throb that perished too soon and at his peak like James Dean. I’ll be like Bob Dylan but without the talent, or charisma, and dead.