By Janet Wong
It’s a long and arduous journey.
Starving with numbness.
Tired of mixing kindness and sabotage.
You can’t trust instinct.
After the election, you can’t believe the weather is wrong again.
The sky cheats on your speech.
The process is complicated and precarious.
Disappointed, there’s no word of a sad sneer.
Nothing has changed.
What else do you expect?
This is already a hell, paved by your blood and passion.
You’d rather go back to the womb, it’s warmer.
May other reckless souls be consumed.
Even so, I want everyone to vote.
Vote your way to an alternative hell.
Congratulations!
You’re part of the construction of our living inferno.
Here, keep cracking and burning bones as fuel.
The walls scream for mercy, sounding like your singing voice.
Many innocent young souls are recognized.
Vote! You deserve limbo, not war.
We need to keep walking in the dark, searching for hellfire and passing offspring an improbable spring and a maybe sunrise.
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I'm waiting for Paul to get home from the airport -- his flight was delayed several hours because the plane was late arriving -- and watching Argylle again because that's what my brain can handle at the moment, after The Masked Singer because Jenny McCarthy and Robin Thicke are the least of America's problems at the moment.
Some parts of my Wednesday were nice -- chatting with all my high school friends, watching two episodes of Ms. Marvel with Kristen, and I managed to converse with my college roommate and other friends -- but I can't cope with social media, or the news. Maybe I'll have more to say tomorrow but I am so fucking done with today.
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