Another bullet passed through shattered dreams that even stuffed lions couldn't stop the football will never be kicked around again. The birthday party favors will never cover the floor again. Yet another dream of better futures broken, tossed, crippled, and charred, no respect for life or livelihood the mere breath on cold windows of winter not allowed sing-song chants of play race cars, kitchen, poolside getaways, awe-struck grins in the face facing elder children, almost adults, look we've done it. We came through it, you will too, before summer calls no longer exist. Another bullet, where did it come from? You know, you knew. It didn't have to be like this, but you don't care except for that lust, blood soaked tinged with sweat of no regret. All your dreams are of bullets. All I can think, as I read report after Tweet after cries of anguished anger, angered anguish, is, this could have been my town. And if it was, ICE would probably be all over it too.... the horrible twists, turn, churn of lived unlived consciousness, bowels of truthful "Why? Why another?"
This week, we’ve thought about the recent news with tired anger, the sort which bubbles to the surface even as it vowed to never again. The problem is that laws are not considered sacred for citizens. They are considered sacred for personal interests and here lies the problem. This is not a situation. This is a problematic society. And at this point, there’s nothing to do but smash it to smithereens.