Ben Peek (benpeek) wrote,
Ben Peek

  • Music:

Observation #702.

They say that the air we breath has been used before it reaches us, that we are, in fact, sucking back a used, hand me down product, contaminated with the words and poison and semen of another creature. They say. They say it in a smear of words, the proclamation contaminated with conversations to cut down forests, to kill heath funds, to make illegal a physical expression of love and lust, but it does not end there. In the wet tangle of words the prayers to the earth, the words of those who birthed medicine, and those who grunt and groan and and cry and scream and whisper and shout the word fuck in all its permutations, are also caught. Trapped beneath the new words, the new conversations, obscured beneath them, hidden, forgotten until they are repeated again.

In sprawling estates with guards and gates, the top one percent of the world's economy are having bonsai trees surgically implanted in their lungs, trying to find empty air.

They say they deserve a new breath.

They say.
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