Vegan Coke Head
author: by by Alexander Reisinger
This weekend I danced with death. The grim reaper came to me in the form of a beautiful girl. She wore a black hooded coat and carried a scythe in the form of a press tab called Molly. They always offer you death, they want you go along with them. I look deep into vacant eyes. I saw violence. I could see corpses beheaded, for gang wars. I could see kidnappings, hostages, war, human trafficking, kids shooting kids, killing. Environmental degradation, human toll. Veganism. She is vegetarian, and what portion of a dead baby's arm is in a line of her cocaine? Mafia crew. Ecstasy, crank, heroine, coke, coca, brick weed, warfare. Drugs go out, guns go in, the blood is on your glamorous hands. The destruction rot. To produce drugs for her failed crew.
But they always say, I'm an American, we're in America. That night, I just didn't care. I'm twice removed, but I have the right to call you out, and I have the right to write about it. We support the wars, we're American. Paramilitary use sledge hammer and chain saw to render your village into body parts. But you get your drugs from some white rapper dude. So caustic acid is used to melt beheaded corpses in pits, corpses that were the mafia's problems. Your problem. They call that guy the "soup maker". He makes sixty bucks a weeks to melt your problems away. So you say - but, I'm an American.
Failed state next door, for your crew. Mexico, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Canada, Haiti transit hub, anywhere your glamorous grim reaper hands can get it. And I hear you say, I don't eat meat, I won't drink from Starbucks, but I need Xanax bars to come down off all the coke I did. Casual fascists, your anxiety hurts. Xanax and terrorism is the new black. There's no such thing as free trade cocaine. You can only lie now, kick my guts out, you give nothing back. You bath in the blood and guts of the world. Grim reaper, happy glamorous, mean, vindictive, burn me up, brand me your enemy. And War. Actual War. Perpetual War. Why not? What is said here means nothing to you, words on a screen, words on a page, words on phone, wars on a screen, wars on paper, words shot from my hand, war shot into an arm. What portion of a dead child's arm?
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