Nation State

If you are part of billions,
you aren't part
of their vision.

Watch,
from high up enough,
and on a clear day,

our noontime shadows
reveal our exodus. We rummage
through rot

to eat,
or we run
from pestilence. Residents

write representatives.
There is no other way.
Helpless as aliens,

superstition thrives in chaos,
directionless.
Protect who you love,

the clueless will be crushed.
Protect who you love, our leaders
are lawless, amok, and concussed.

Jackboot black-suit thugs disrupt
the genesis of revolution
before it upchucks

the solar system.
Standing at the precipice
of endlessness,

selfish,
we maintain that
it's part of a plan.

Hope erupts
among the populace like
an affront to evidence.

The nebulous disgust
within us, shaped from above,
takes root and combusts.

Over millennia, truly lost,
we craft grand ideas
that prove fruitless. Useless.

No movement.
No respite.
Appetites turn ruthless.

Justice,
in the end,
dissolves in its cost.