OF AN AGE Often I feel a growing weight of despair for these self-endangered humans, my timid neighbors with their ad-driven habits assuming religious denial of their animal identity so to believe the oxymoronic lie of humane slaughter and therefore bless, devour, absolve, hide and ignore any such routine acts of mass commercial killing, conveniently including generations of family violence, their buried trauma, sins and crimes carried nervously through systemic schools of social class assignment for escape to the gainful business of making money, but fighting for dominance in wars of global slaughter, mass-producing weapons and killers to serve and protect the great family fortunes and their corporate empires, plus the right of those ruling industrial entrepreneurs with their relentless technology innovators to invent and install automated assembly lines of loyal machines that need never buy the products they manufacture, but eliminate the jobs of the people who once did as dream-inspired they drove their good-citizen trust out onto the traffic-jammed streets and highways, rushing breathless into the smog-shrouded cities, on time to push their love-hate will to work and win a bonus for consolidating everything to cash credit with their incorporated wage & debt slave labor, though medical science has liberated their power to overpopulate into billions who shop and trash nonstop 24 hours a day, 365 days a year to demand more than a shrinking planet can provide and absorb till every cubic mile of land, water and sky is invested to grow and expand their economy forever upward, and outward to conquer that unlimited space frontier and millions cry out "Give it a rest! Give me a break!" but only by pumping ever-more oil can the price of gas bargain down to fuel up all those cross-country tours and jet lag passports to inflated liesure time away tanning with the crowds at Halogen's Melanoma Beach, dining in or out on agri-pest-free-chemi-cancer cuisine, back home for online trade, TV bargains and risky medicines, their good life pictured safe in sit-coms and game shows plus the latest hi-tech toys for self-flattering twitter, cleverly advertised but so deep into sub-rational thought sponge-brain appetites ferment guilty of muted complaint: 'If only I didn't love them I could play the games forever' while incorporated doctors & pharmacies grow richly smug practicing on that epidemic mass of terminal patients. Yet, our nine month miracles find them innocently putting aside their manic desires, dark impulse enlightened by the naked faith of so many naive souls created in birth their cherub eyes would beguile en masse and pacify the rabid technocidal growth of their mortal race to escape alive - but terror squeezes out through each natal trauma to start another fight to the finish against that void of death, from boiling water to ampicillin, killing germs of flesh and dirt where mutant rebellions impend with every breath and touch, every kiss and thrust. But few dare to see their good sense imprisoned inside this network of happy delusions created and managed by wealthy class gamblers who play everyone for fools and dismiss the World to poverty, gluttony, ecocide and final extinction, their predatory instincts triumphant to the last nurturing their own delusions of elite survival, even now when the truth is made clear by modern medical retentions of life revealing agonic tunnels to light where beyond this physical trap waits a realm of love without fear.

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