oil to the surface

i saw the explosion of american flagson my safe and sound suburban streetafter 9/11 and the big crunchof their disappearance whengreed separated from ideology the newly adoptedgood times spiritof the post war boomerswent starved and sullento fat and happynow swollen and numb aerial views of suburbialike the inner workingsof nature itselffibonacci and goldenratios all presentbut as a patternfor human ailmentnever observed forlorn real estategladly turned to mallscarrying every singleitem neededwhen burningaluminum cansand cutting eyesof relatives outfrom pictures don’tprovide the chemicalthrills they once did the sick fermented smelliron and onions and30 days sober againdesperate coffee breathvoices cholic from a failedgenerational ferberizationexperiment benefittingparents that really didneed a breakor a messiahor an ICBM this aggressive disordercataracts of modernityconviction of rightnessin the ever absence of doubtnothing is right andnothing is wrongthere only existsundiagnosedancient avaricepresent in ourDNA ours to readwithout eyesall this while

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Paasha Motamedi · paasha.motamedi@gmail.com