i hear the phrase late stage capitalism, like cancer. you think it could actually enter the end stage. how long can the cancer feed before the body collapses. seems to be no clear blue line narrative, only stories disparate and interactive on the level of synergy or mystery. the word inchoate, where the word lives. is this what they meant when they said everything that rises must converge. it's all ancient history. so yesterday. somehow as things are blown apart the vital force we thought was appropriated by systems of power and control and war is returning to the collective consciousness. in the twilight of the idiot giants. in the wasteland of suicide seeds. in the landscapes and widening gyres of garbage. consciousness sprouts from the detritus of dark centuries of annihilating progress. mother still whole mother still all that's left us all this is mother knows best.