The passenger trains are gone, the busses between cities are gone, the bus in my town is underfunded, I can't get a job because of it, I can't get a job without an education either. Except that the college dropped 80% of the classes, and I can't afford to leave town, and I can't drive to leave town, and the light rail track is a walking trail now, and the cheapest bus to the city-over is $120, and I can't get a job, and I've gotten sicker, and my friends have left to University, and I can't get a job, and the University costs $50,000 a year, and I can't afford to move, and I can't drive and everything is getting worse and the heat of the sun sears me as I walk, 1000 meters to the bus stop, over the vast sea of concrete that my town has become.
Everything alive is crispy and dead, dowsed in herbicides to make sure only the half-dead chimera roses and lawns remain, 200 cars drive past me as I melt onto the pavement. The bus now only comes once per hour. 13 billion dollars for a new data center, there's a dead butterfly baked onto the pavement of a parking lot. There used to be a forest here. And I can't get a job.
And the college might shut down. The train station is a storage closet; police guard the sanctity of the rail to keep us out. A 20 foot wide corridor of private land stretching coast-to-coast, on one side the lake and on the other side the people. The people built the rail, the station and the cars, the people now have to privilege of arrest should they use what they're created. My mom is getting sicker. And I can't get a job.
I walk with a cane now. A three-legged beast, the shop owners are afraid to hire me. The news said another young woman has gone missing. There is a land acknowledgement, another young woman has gone missing, the land remains stolen. Another parking lot has been built on it, over the bones beneath the sand. And I can't get a job.
It's 35 degrees. They say we'll be increasing emissions, for the economy. A man sleeps behind bushes, hiding from the sun, there's an empty house down the street, his hands are cracked like pavement. He sleeps in winter, when its 20 degrees below, he sleeps in the summer when its 40 above. 13 billion dollars for a new data center. And he can't get a job. And the shelter is behind the sewage plant. And I can't get a job.
The man stopped moving. The house is still empty. 300 cars drive past me, and the wealth is making me sick. And the people are making me sick. And everything is making me sick. And the leaders do nothing, men in fine clothes gather to pull from the earth greater and greater wealth, they reach past the man behind the bushes, past the hungry, past the bones. And I can't get a job.
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
yousharknotpass
blakekathryn
gummygunk
jimmyeatworldofficial
