Member-only story
We frolic around in this messy place
in our oversized thoughts, limbs, and suits covered
with all of what our parents and the world have told us to pursue
dancing for one another like the broken-in beasts that we are.
Humans are as close to, if not, the beastliest of them all.
And the nerve of us to compare ourselves to the beast in the room next door, the country next door, or those that are years before and after us.
As if we are more thoughtful
as if our bones do not cut through the veins of plants like theirs,
as if we didn’t slit open someone’s throat, heart, or mind with a word that we’ve shared.
We’re all beasts on the surface.
Our skin smells when it rots like the animals on this earth’s surface.
The only glimmer of hope is not in humanity.
Our mere, danger-to-ourselves-and-all-living-things, humanity.
It’s not our destructive need-to-know-everything-to-use-it-as-gain,
humanity.
