We slowly descend
Into pain
Into fascism
Into a self that we no longer recognize.
I am a shell of my former self
And all I can think about is you.
The balcony where we used to talk
Smoke a cigarette after sex
And then listen to the band.
Watching news from Gaza
Right after scrolling through silly brainrot
Watching Trump hate on immigrants
Right after a silly cat video
We’re chronically online, you said,
But at least we’re not oblivious to the horrors behind
comprehension
That never seem to end.
I cry because you don’t love me anymore
Or maybe… you never did.
Maybe The Vaccines will release a new album
Maybe you’ll start playing the guitar
And we will go touring together.
Or maybe this balcony will disintegrate
With us on it.
Every brick
Every cigarette bum
Every green tile
All gone.
Like my hope in humanity sometimes
Like the leather jacket you wore
Until it wasn’t wearable anymore.
I can’t save you from yourself
Like I can’t save the starving children from Gaza
Or the poor people on the streets
That were sold the capitalist dream.
I can’t save myself from the weight
Of my own feelings.
I can’t even save 30 bucks on a premium subscription to
your heart.
But what I can do is be present
Embrace the pain
Not look away
Embrace my own ugly and gross human skin
And its own capacity to inflict pain.
Embrace the light, the darkness,
And build a better self.
One that doesn’t shy away from telling you how much
you’ve always meant to me,
One that doesn’t sit quiet while right wingers pretend they
know what’s best for us.
One that falls with the balcony tiles,
Removes the dirt and dust from their clothes
And then rises back up.
One that loves you, but also loves the world
One that hates the world, but also believes in its
redemption.
We slowly descend
Into hope
Into love
Into joy
And we go on.
