Random Dread

Self-improvement can’t save us.

Living your dreams isn’t gonna save us from our demons.

Gucci watches won’t prevent migrant crises.

Trips to London won’t lower Earth’s temperature.

Writing and music can heal the heart,

But they aren’t going to break bipartisan gridlock,

Or save the world from the wealthy white man and his irrevocably similar friends.

I struggle to find peace in the wake of every moving part of global calamity I see.

I don’t have the stomach to discover what else plagues a global population.

My words aren’t enough to restore stability to Syria.

My enthusiasm won’t get big pharma to stop the opioid crisis,

It’s helping their bottom line too much.

 

So the wealthy white man convinces his friends and the people who wish to join the club

How to exchange human lives for profit.

My good intentions can’t un-teach that.


 

My verse can’t free us of our addiction to winning.

It can erase “cash crop” from our memory,

But it can’t erase slave labor from American history.

I struggle to find peace under every problematic stone I come across.

 

Guitar fingers can’t take Central Massachusetts out of me.

God save the souls of the folks whose ideologies are less developed

Than the rural denizens of Central Massachusetts.

Lord knows I can’t save them.

 

My existential dread can’t snap the country out of the thought

That these things aren’t normal.

The bubble would burst and my friends would all fill with an even worse existential dread.

 

I struggle to find peace in an inconceivably huge world whose heart has crusted over,

So I seek refuge in the small world of a large bowl,

And try to remind myself that tomorrow is a new day.

 

(Credit to K.C. Green for the most iconic meme portrayal of denial ever made)

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