Words

Born from stardust on a fleck of rock somewhere in the unisphere, our bodies ring electricity. Vessels that navigate physical landscape, our bodies sense these energies and intermingle magic.
Thrust into the landscape of late stage capitalism, our bodies have become political. At some point we changed the way we care for ourselves and the land, and created the middle man of the dollar. Our bodies are used to sustain others before we are taught to sustain ourselves. Measured in worth by systems of power, our true electric matter is dulled by the drone of their cog. Put in our place by the systems of power that denote where our stardust
should settle rusts the shine of our true capacity, confusing our collective narrative. Our dreams and desires rest on the backs of commerce, our exploitation becoming exploitative.
We are an amalgamation of what we are force fed to believe. From sea to shining sea the constant in our landscape is the comforting glow coming from box stores and fast food drive-thrus. Modern convenience has made it hard to overthrow their system. But their disregard for our home is slowly killing us. Their system is not set up to heal this sickness. We can no longer be separated and controlled by their desire to utilize our powers for their pocket book. We must see past their plan to divide us in order to conquer us.

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