All this talk of conspiracies has got me thinking: fucking Trump was put there. He was placed by the overlords of our corporations because nothing gets the people motivated to go out and do something--buy something, donate, eat, fucking live--than to #resist a dangerous imbecile.
He said it himself: he can take all the heat. He seems assured a spot in History's pantheon of wheel turning figures so why does he even care to continue with this charade? His name emblazoned on giant buildings, this desperation to matter--to be somebody, to be someone of meaning. Vain. A hypocrite. An idiot. Evil, some say. But in his own way, his desperate need for acknowledgement reflects the core truth of humanity. His yearning for immortality, his own fervent hope that a future Daughters of the Confederacy will erect statues of his backwards ass...I get it.
See. I'm actually woke. Not in the way you are thinking but in the way you will one day think. Trump, in all his rage inducing fire & fury, is meant to put you to sleep by getting you out there: politically motivated, protesting, voting, having conversations and debates, dreaming once more of equality and fairness and a sense that the world can be one you believe in again.
I wrote a book of poems.
I wrote: Peace & dreams aren't real a bunch of times in it.
Was this whole thing a commercial for a thing I haven't even published yet?
*I've become a walking commercial.*
What Trump realizes on those rare occasions his delusions clear and he allows himself a few seconds for introspection. Company who hired him? Life. Humanity. Some fucking quasi dimensional system of woe that also let the Patriots come back against the Falcons...
bastards.
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