Trump as Fire without Light
I like the blue. I liked that irrational hot that could take me. All this useless red, cloaked in smoke, and most of it unashamed to speak through the coughing, it’s terrifying. I like song. I will get used to these short songs. I will learn what I need to do. I won’t waste a single breath. I will sing as often as I can.
Imagine the outcome is camps. Imagine the outcome is walls around those camps. Imagine the outcome is love shredded by barbwire around those camps. Imagine a fire without light consuming all of us that do not see the light and cannot lie about seeing the light. Imagine I could escape. Imagine I choose to not to. I know what happens in a world like this. I did not think I would have to stop imagining it.
I know there are houses in the woods, but it’s those houses that are not safe anymore. The voices you hear rising above the flaming spires, they are the neighbors that don’t want to be neighbors. They want your name. They want to know why you make love to your wife on Sunday. They want you to put a sign above your garden that says garden, and they have questions about why you crawl under such smoke.