Here I’m alive; a mediocre, twice-
writing unremarkable poetry,
failing to be
Homo Economicus, but
I’m not the only one
this system fucks us all,
& so many of you are depressed too.
This ‘condition’ though; the flame forever
either roaring or falling so low
that it almost gives up the heat
the Accursed Share* tearing me apart,
sometimes corrupts so intensely
that thinking about tomorrow
is more than I can bear..
& then there is the voice,
I’m sure you’ve heard it too,
it’s all your fault,
a flaw, a weakness
– worthless piece of shit,
can’t just get on with it.
You’ve got so much privilege:
just look at how much you can get when
half the world lives on less than
you earn in an hour.
Don’t be so pathetic: you don’t deserve it –
Sometimes, I think the voice is right.
I realise what it really is:
the propaganda of our disgusting society
that’s wormed its way inside of my psyche.
& yet knowing this doesn’t help
this mind of mine can’t find
the featherweight consolation
of ironic distance.
the romance of defiance;
all or nothing.
There’s only one decision to be made
if we’re ever going to change,
only one choice to make:
“Revolution or suicide”**
* The Accursed Share – Georges Bataille
** Guy Debord