Will I always pine for those first few months of lockdown?
Is that my world war 2?
Somehow they still glow like halcyon days, a final flash of something other than this remorseless unending capitalism, pounding our hopes under its metal hooves until we’re only meat.
Sad sorry meat.
Is this all we are now?
Property. Money.
Probably. Maybe.
—
There was that littl…
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