Manifesto for the Satellite Kids 2

Little goldfishes,
Where are you going?
The rivers run amok with grease and bad breath
The aquariums have become so full of
Children who started speaking too young
And schools are mental hospitals to numb
Pain and learn to speak in unison
Warzones are a possible option but sturdy
Boots are hard to come by

Little goldfishes,
What do you speak?
Take silence, for example. It
Talks to walls and hides in static fan blades
The universe is about inaction. It takes
Charge of the internet and evokes thoughts and
Prayers.
Or whispers. You can suck
Air into teeth and it would
Make sense to a
Pacifist
You have
No choice
But to
Sing. Your hunger is your statement to
Stay alive.

Little goldfishes, how do you feel?
When you’re hard pressed for solutions everyday cold press juice becomes an escape
As are Buzzfeed quizzes and 2-min reads. You admire landscapes on the internet and you live on sustenance level. Your bowls are your bowels you think you’re bigger than yourself. You
Eat Post-it Notes and call it art.
You
Rage and call it expression.
You
run errands and call it life.

Little goldfishes, what should you do?
Stop being a spectacle and a spectator. I have little to offer because I am still speaking from a tank. I am a shark looking for corals and vertical depth. I swim to forget. Take me with a grain of salt but never underestimate who I once was. A hopeful pirate who was too indecisive and missed the date to set sail.

 

Image from Lana Del Rey’s “Love” music video

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