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It is entirely possible I may just grind it all down into millet and feed it to pigeons when I am done.  I wouldn’t want to poison those shiny grey birds.  Maybe, just maybe, they will digest all of the important information and shit it out on the masses.  As the shit hits, the individual sits…thinking, luck has struck.  When in fact the reality of the fact is that it is just shit…

Bits of knowledge, mixed in with sweat, sadness and exploitation.  The ideas of desperation and retaliation for the economic and political flow so strong a single soul cannot stop it.  I read with my pulse pounding in my hand, my heart in someone else’s throat as I shout silently into the still air. I write so large in hopes it will be seen. The words are so important, but, what if…what if you cannot read them, what if I cannot speak them.  The languages that separate us, the politics that barricade us, the currency that divides us from saving those who cannot save themselves only to realize I am lost.  Who am I to say anyone needs to be saved?!  I feel completely depraved.

I am part of this cycle.  I contribute to human enslavement.  I am committed to the exploitation of others.  I have experienced exploitation and fully understand the control it embodies. It contains the essence of promise.  The reality is ones identity is stripped and replaced by object.  The human becomes the object. My experience comes from the United States.  Though it is relative it is not comparable.  People are truly suffering…I cannot even begin to mediate the magnitude of these issues…I need a case of tissues.

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