This piece is featured in Issue No. 2 Fake News


Feels Like Capitalism

Her name is 
Wait, why do you care

Stick and stones may break bones 
But religion and guns
And drugs and thugs 
Form an agenda 
A desire to hate 
A love of hate 
Is there any other way? 

Not so historical
Rooted in the wreckage of me
Of me? No, of the trees 
Burnt down in the forest fire 
That wasn’t just another fire
But a ritual, a slow burning 
Meant to rage and hurt 
Those who fight and claw for more
For rent, for a cheque, for a country
Worth fighting for, but nothing more 

So save us, save me
No, stop
Save yourself 
Because the collection of us
A fragile hope of the collective 
No longer exists, no breath to breathe
No heart to beat
Only me, all me, just me 
Praise me, reward my lust 
For a life I dream to attain 
Because you said I should 

Pay me in gestures, pay me 
In words, or love me in regret 
But you don’t regret 
The hands you use to use me 
In the ways you can stay high 
And lust for my use 
I am a slave
But not to you or your ways 
So wear the mask
Not of the virus, but of the pandemic 
That is the sickly nation 
One which fails to live 
The life he wants to live 
We fail to live 
Help me live 

Derek H

Derek H is a wine-drinking dog mom who should probably stick to his day job.