Drones constantly scan for outliers.
No quiet outpost can be left alone.
We are compost for the new
man-created gods. They make
a devious geometry
from all our shit thoughts.
This is the world you've bought:
you'll fight for its right to kill you.
Protest for a state-approved death.
Advocate more humane destabilization.
Futility is your birthright.
What's mine? Not the emptiness I explore
with glee: it doesn't need to be.
I'm free to let go
of everything you can't see.
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