Thursday, August 20, 2009

Olive green. propaganda red. This is a confrontation. Authority, government, strength and ammunition are wrapped up in a bolted steel membrane. Its waiting waiting to ejaculate its every ounce of power upon me. Walk. Stop. See the tanks come. See the tanks roll forward like dark thunder clouds. I feel the pain in the bolted steel of the olive green monsters. I feel the pain in the rumbling asphalt. I feel the pain in the monuments and the stone white columns holding them upon their back. I feel pain in the polluted haze that hovers above this city. I feel pain in the street lamps that line the avenues that silently stand on every corner witnessing every injustice. Cotton White. Wool black. This is not America.

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