The answer

Pieces of flesh ricochet off the walls of the world. Soldiers rape and throttle their nightmares gathered on the orders of self-proclaimed princes whose coffers are filled with snakes and oil. They handcuff us with their medicines, and we, the willing and able, shout for more because the one with most toys wins, we’ve been told.

And that means someone always loses — this nature of life closes the discussion. We walk away satisfied having found the answer, happy to stare into something other than ourselves.

Stare into the abyss that is you. Be terrified. Be dizzy. Fall. Lie there for as long as you need to. Find yourself, not in the electronic glow, nor in your anger. In your love, in your tenderness, in your stardust. Then get up and look around. What do you see? It’s scorched, but not dead.

Awaken, arise. Sit, breathe. Stop listening to the cybervoices in your head. The next pill, the next pod, the next fuck will not get you there — there will always be the next and the next and the next. Stare into the sun — there is truth in blindness. Jesus doesn’t want you to buy or to kill, which amounts to the same thing. A does not connect to B does not connect to C. Life is a bouncy house in which our molecules — and we — collide with one another and the walls and the ceiling and the floor and bounce away changed, recreated.

You cannot bury your emptiness in a landfill. There isn’t a garbage stream massive enough to hold it. But you are. There is nothing missing. The screen is not who you are. The pain is not who you are. You are the universe — look at yourself softly and with forgiveness. All I am saying is you are enough, and I am grateful.

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