gnash

words fail. miserably. to try is proverbially copping out. each breath ignites a small flame snuffed out before it gives light. waves. waves of shouting demons, crumbling and cowering, distasteful memories waking two seconds later. the hours tick away. tick away.

for our struggle is not against flesh and blood, not against those we can touch, feel, smell. not against agendas, loyalty, badges. we're at war. not with machines, systems, institutions. we are at war against our oppressed minds. we are fighting the unseen, invisible, those things that capture our imagination, our passion, our attention. we are at war against distractions that undermine and leverage our value system, our morals, our need for lines, clear distinct channels.

God, have mercy on us all. We need you for more than our daily bread.