Sinister machines are destroying us. Grinding life to a pulp. Call it dog food and sell it by the ton. Call it humanely raised beef and charge more for those who can afford “to care.”
Evil capitalists atop their money-making heaps of flesh and bone, hawking their wares of blood, terror and torture. And we just can’t give it up, that taste of horror.
These days lots of talk of environmental collapse but little action. They say we have 20 years to get it correct. To make it right and save it all, make amends with the earth.
I hope we do, but deep inside I don’t think as a species that we deserve to continue. We have literally raped the earth to death, killed its inhabitants and are grasping at final reserves. All for convenience. For our grotesque, crunchy, corner-store chicken wings and plastic bags and guzzoline.
Too early for these thoughts. I know the world is full of goodness and that we just need to harness that power; but the mind is a terror dome. Better to cook my little potato in a small cast-iron skillet. I’ll call it breakfast.