Max R

weed induced fits of anxiety

with entrails that mask capital

its moving parts and corpses excavated pasts and futures

masks of racial capitalism and the feeling that we can feel but not touch utopia

if we could only re-organize how we are

these fits of anxiety, they come from a special place that is so suggestive, like on the tips of our tongues

we cannot help but imagine this future because it scrapes and claws

fails to build us up out of brokenness insofar as it revives itself

and so i wonder what brokenness and interiority require, how much death, etc.