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We’ll wake
visions of crowds
dancing, cheerful
clapping, and in the radiance
light-bearers
will bathe our
eyes, washing us,
making us better.
We’ll cry out in the night
over nightmares,
Jerry Falwell sniffing the ass of a male
prostitute and proclaiming,
“This is the day the lord hath made”
That was a rough one, imagery aside, like the day, but it came to me in a fit grumpiness and god damn do I feel like swinging a baseball bat at a hypocrite today.
"We cook your meals, we haul your trash, we connect your calls, we drive your ambulances. We guard you while you sleep. Do not... fuck with us" -Tyler Durden (I'd like to something else, but I am not in the cleverest of moods for which I blame you)
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