Ode to Uncertainty – The Atlantic

I’m not sleeping and neither are you.

A shattered crystal ball
Illustration by The Atlantic

A twist within the guts, a shift within the tide,
there are cartons of eggs getting damaged worldwide.   
I’m not sleeping and neither are you.
Boo-hoo.
In worry, in worry, the celebs are unfold,
they shine in isolate rings of dread,
and may the heavens get too tight
they’ll hiss and disengage their mild.

Have been we helpless? Have been we blind?
Have been we out of our fucking minds?
Ought to we’ve received that booster shot
from the screaming man within the car parking zone?
And is he amongst us, the Father of Lies,
his presence introduced by a buzzing of flies,
with all of his reptile retinue?
America, good realizing you.

Oligarchs be mild, oligarchs be good,
oligarchs don’t make us say it twice.
The smoke descends, the choices slim,
this can be a second looking for its tarot,
its Satan, its Hanged Man, its Ten of Swords.
Are you able to inform the story? Do you have got the phrases?
Come on, give me the tablet, Jill,
and we’ll roll unconscious down the hill.

Maintained on this state of untamed vexation
by volleys of planetary radiation—
what if a genie changed your cellphone
with the membership of someone’s tibia bone?
Love alone is the drugs for asshole-ism,
Love the elixir that settles the schism,
Love the securest biodefense.
O preserve us collectively, Love. Make us make sense.