Indifference is different these days. Take for instance: an abominable population hopped up on "going the distance", when reality will casually drop hints that we're all casualty, at cause because we profit off the losses of the populace.

But if the bobblehead society could avert their mental atrophy, they'd discover that their finish-line-eternity has a currency. Though bittersweet the truth may be, the gospel truth's emergency. There's misery that doesn't have to be, and hunger we ignore for free. It's a planet separated by the weight of fearing charity.

And if philanthropic topics bother those on top, then stop it. Hell is hotter than the tropics with those zealots in their Prada. Water, food, and health, that ought to get them talking, but it's not. A lot of pissing off the order, burning bridges for their border, doesn't help if all we get is pushed aside or get ignored. Or if you want to give them credit, debt is just as bad as death and if we want to be the bigger man, we'll put ill thought to bed.

But after all, it's not about us. It's about us, but they're not us. Not a system for the people or a handout for the modest. When they shot us, they were quiet. “Why it mattered, we’re astonished. We're the party for the people and our scripture is dishonest.”

It's a pity pithy gospels are projected out to brothels, novel homages to better minds who goaded we apostles. They have ears, but never listen; they have brains, but they've been christened. They're a group of firm believers in the power of addiction.

And the only consolation in this masochistic nation is the fact that we're a rock in illimitable rotation. It could all go up in smoke, explode in mushroom clouds of coke, and if it all came crashing down, then all the optimists misspoke.

But then, the day begins, and then it ends, and then again, and in the end, will you be what you ought to be... or what you've been?

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