the tension is tight as an overwound violin string. the shelves were ransacked at amazone- hole foods. yasmin said it was like some show about the walking dead. she has a big bag of balls of yarn says she's crafting for the apocalypse. 
i come out with stupid impractical or selfish goods and feel holey unprepared for the collapse. an autopilot in yet another giant black sports utility vehicle tries to run over me as though i'm no more visible or consequential than a bug and i ride like the devil in front of her til my lungs burn and i think bursting corona in all my little blood sacs.
the feeling of shutting down in panic, shutting borders institutions eyes hearts everything, and wondering will there ever be natural peace will there ever be love and cooperation will we ever be safe again.