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Near-paralysis, stomach down on a hotel bed, a belt on my backside till both it and my face turned red. A phone out of reach, you tasting like salty bleach— —your amyl-fueled rage, your narcissism late-stage. Don’t you ever get sick of a weakling gold rush? Don’t you ever get sick of not feeling all …
In America we are: So connected we are disconnected So #Woke that we are asleep So enslaved that we think we are free So busy chasing money that we are spiritually broke So convinced we are true believers in our religions that we are brainwashed So wrapped up in politics that we are puppets …