Obscurantism

Sometimes the wellspring of

Myopic viators think us

Cankered fantods of bracketology

The heiligenschein of order;

They think the world is better

For its encroaching schema

To further divide good from evil

Until there is no safe ground for

Questions—stop production, baby!

Our voluble animus continues

And we are left looking at our

Disavowed judgments, wishing

For petrichor to divide our attention,

But instead, we are left with the

Aimless consumerism of

Divertissements and fashion.

Fuck your fashion, your plastic,

Your genetic modification: distribute

The resources equally

And then we can

Talk without my bathetic

And ballooned effort

To pity the sentiment.

Stop—what you eat

Buying—what you speak

Into-me—It-self