The Pentagon plans to live-stream
the firing squad execution
of the Fort Hood shooter,
and my head is so very heavy,
and everything is covered in the ashes
of a burning planet.
I found the corpse of a water spirit
down by the creek where my parents live.
She used to play with me when I was small.
She was tangled in plastic
and mail-order clothes,
and someone had torn off her wings.
She would have been older
than the country I live in.
So hell, why not.
Why not live-stream the firing squad execution.
Run commercials for Kalshi and Crypto dot com
and recruitment ads for the US Marine Corps.
Let Joe Rogan host it with Kevin Hart,
and then auction off pieces of the body
to horny socialites from the Epstein files.
Let’s just go all-in with this thing.
My head is heavy,
and the earth spirits are dying,
and I feel so fucking old.
I get down on the ground
and place my hands on the dirt.
“Please, tell me what to do,”
I whisper.
“Please tell me what you need.”
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