#deadbirds

From: Smith, E. (Eliza), -approximately 1732. The compleat housewife. London : Printed for R. Ware, 1750

“is it any wonder, why she grabbed the rock and finished off the suicidal bird, beach-side to feel it to run from it in drowning dreams., at night, while forgetting to pray.

empathic attraction, to try & save everybody, save ourselves

is it any wonder, why we’re sedated, as this hurts more than our bodies can hold clutching tighter to oblivion they’ll explode, as lightning flashes an escape because thunder must come from somewhere.

someone make it stop, everyone made it continue eyes closed, sights are elsewhere imagination, because god seems gone here just to wake and do it again inhale water, drown, finally disappear

but who says eyesores are to be silenced any longer? so many dead birds, and the guilt in our part may heal us too so many angels *angles to problems we are reluctant to solve because of the overwhelm, & blaring enslavement story that fits right into the most daunting metaphor we’ve ever known.

misery, misery shouldn’t we put her out wouldnt she come to with the same inflamed doubt? to know, to know,  nothing but the body she’s stuck in

this is not too much for us to overcome, cycles must make the pawns ripe for the picking, come out to play tired of being numb, drained from playing dumb

for if the crowd should be served   poisonous black-eyed peas for all the revenge-seeking wounds shouldnt the cook be well-fed? roles examined, tranquilized again to keep from losing control just before things get interesting so many sacrificied birds, but hasn’t death lost its sting and given way to symbolic?