i woke up this way. sadness in my breast, a maternal feeling. the sadness that wants to create. what sadness is this. sadness at the heart, sadness at the state of things. sadness at the pulling of strings, the ropes that leave us hanging. apologies for the sing song. i woke up this way. this lack of breath, the lack of air, the state of things.
more than the spinning door that admits as it ejects the latest killer clown. the father that states all immigrants are criminals, including the father and all the dead fathers before him. the sadness. what is this sadness. it's the inescapable, the sadness in everything.
and yet, and yet it is not everything it is in, and this is the sadness. the sadness is the power and the profits continue to destroy and never feel the sadness in everything.