to kick the cage

I watch the new world order bursting open on my phone. the fat pig wants more and the little ones are still too fat and pathetic to even think of trying to kick the cage open. the mud reeks of death and I am covered to my neck, iced thick enough to confuse my own hands for hooves. we squeal and snort for something more than water from the fountain. they play silly movies on the ceiling to send us to sleep. the slaughterhouse speakers rattle with the laugh track and we forget about the other sounds outside. screeching of late night trams on the breaks or the scream of every child that should have lived to see tomorrow. we’ve heard it all before and only ever wake to more. armageddon in the name of progress.

I read the signs in the city for answers. flashing green man and ‘do not spit’ on the wall of the tunnel passing under the station. I ask the heart what it wants and play with hope. from the pillow I can watch the currents gushing over state lines into limbo. maybe they know where they’re going. maybe I should know a little more.