Pheonic we rise from the primordial disintegration that us; that is, societal. A bond we broke to live as if loss were god. It was. Positive annihilation; creation. While the rest of them live on the level of primary integration, we suffer christ-like for their naivete. For who they thought they were was who they knew before was never new was who was never searching was never who they could have been. If they had only tried. And who are we kidding – it is not them but we for we are all of us together bashing our heads into pavement pretending we’re alive. But here we waste away together in a sea of banality where every place is just like the last place and every person we meet is just the same person that we have met are just the same people we already knew; that is: it’s not new. We are not special not more special than the last generation and no more special than the one before that because we all led up to this which is leading towards something else and we have clouded vision for outcome but clear sights for momentary gratification. I wish it still made me happy to drown, to live basic sense from day to day to this feeling and on this high and into the wild night but that only ever led to the bottom of a well and I’m tired of climbing back up. So we’re in this together now. We are not put on this earth for such short bouts of time to waste away in solitary discomfort, but to recognize charity. I am not speaking of the pretentious gift we might bestow but the moment we realize that we are stuck but we are stuck together. I am stuck with all of you and you are stuck with me. The sense will reach us when we accept and perhaps love that. We will build an arc for this ocean of apathy and set sights on greater lands where we will not simply repeat our repetition – no – we will make something new. We must do something new before we die sick and old. My charity is in this: these words. These words as a plea. This plea as nudity. Stripped to what core I have left bare and shivering and unsure and unbearably anxious under judgmental eyes but here none-the-less. This is all I have. This is all I am. I am words and I am w(a/o)ndering, usually lost, never all-knowing but I am loving. I may not be beautiful or stunning but I am understanding and feeling I am empathetic I am not brilliant and I may not be rational but I am caring. I am not a leader but I am an excellent ally a bearer of thought a proponent of art and option a dreamer a source of power and strength. I am a fucking human I am one of us. You are either part of the movement or you are alone in the world. I’m sick of being alone. I dare you to discover your charity. What will you do for the revolution?