For every money gun

For every viral gun death - a poem…


For every slither of hope for a beautiful family or person - a surge in funds for them…

For every shitty golden lie by politicians -
The fine fresh summer’s morning that makes their stomach turn…

For every company complicit in this torture, trying to keep us and them numb -

You can’t survive this - and neither can your conscience, whether you know it or not yet…

The whole thing will crumble like dried, bloody bubblegum - and art will be watching, like it always does…

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