and for what! when you've scorched everything and when there is no more clean water and when your own children cannot survive - what is the point? what will money even do? what will banks be? you keep us in debt and in hunger and in bad health and you allow all this suffering to go unhelped so that you can - what?
money isn't real! it is a concept. you horde it on the thought it will keep you warm in the long night that is coming - but how? you cannot barter with what has no value. you cannot sell what is just stock. you cannot promise you'll invest; you already failed to deliver on investing in a sustainable century.
in movies, people have started saying - during the apocalypse, all the security will go to the wealthy. and it feels on-the-nose, out of the mouth of billion-dollar hollywood productions.
but if i was choosing between letting a rich man on the boat and letting in a family - why would i take money? what, in a crisis, does a million dollars mean? that money is nothing when we are under the sea. that money is just an idea, and it cannot come with me.
and the thing is! when you kill us, you kill your own legacy. who will sing beautiful funeral songs of you, when you have ruined us so completely? your name could be holy. your name could be hallowed. first to give what was needed. instead, if we go down - who cares about you? yours is a warning story. king midas. he who kills all that he touches. your name like a spit.
we know how to make a thing last-forever. we will tell stories instead of tiny gratitude. how so many had nothing, and still found something to give. how we were kind to each other. how we said goodbye in a kiss. we were always capable of eternity, that thing you seek so hungrily: we know how to keep-alive a memory, to soothe a soul over the passage of time. look how long we've been studying stars and calling them sisters. we know how to make a story last in spades.
but you? you will die alone, so happy in your green freedom. you, who wants us to die with you, false pharaoh, surrounded by those who you never cared to learn the name of. you want us to burn alongside your beautiful mansion.
i am erasing your name from this and from me and from any history i'm writing. we will call you mosquito or bloodworm or wriggling leech. you have always been meaningless. you little gnat. you little coward. you little, horrible monster of greed.
theartofmadeline
areudirty
origamiaround
gummygunk
