Liberty and the Leviathan (2012)

Laid bare like an army of angels gloriously, unceremoniously, harmoniously, categorically drown in the abandoned Salton Sea. Choking on the rusty nineteen-sixty fifteen inch wheels in a courtyard of stagnant travel trailers. Forgotten on purpose. Grass taking over the lug nuts. Rust painting a tapestry of loss and tragedy spun up in a jungle of time. Statues proud and vulnerable for the vultures seeking mid-century furniture pieces or curtain patterns to sell to the new yuppies just out of college and emerging to stifle themselves and their future children among a lifetime of strangling debt. The American Way. Forefathers or four fathers, either way, full of shit.

People. Lots of them. Wanting to unroll the white lines on the lost, dusty, grass growing-in-the-cracks, abandoned highways. So they can feast. So they can sojourn. So they can fucking feel. Easier to steal though. Easier to jerk-off Uncle Sam. Easier to yank on the lifeblood of the ones that fell before them, laid cold, rectified in the piss, shit and lies of a foreign beach forsaken by god and their country, pierced by bullets, through the helmets covering seventeen year old new hair cuts and dreams, ripped apart at the seams, ravaged for an official disagreement. Financial prowess. Liberty and the leviathan crawling within the lady on the bay, looking for the next immigrant to burn and scorn and hate and blame and tax and use.

Easier to curse than to proclaim something worth doing. Something worth hearing. Easier to hate and conquer.

It's hard enough to love. Too hard to love the ones we kill.

The Fucking American Way.