A boom, boom, boom, let me hear you say the World is On Fire and All Effort to Correct Its Faults are Futile so Let’s Dance as the Palaces Burn!

Can I hear you say it? Are you saying it? Screaming it?

Screaming it as your white-knuckled rage is consuming you, screaming and screaming and screaming. Screaming as your throat rips, as your lungs burst, as your eyes dilate beyond capacity.

Can I hear you say it? Are you saying it? Screaming it?

Screaming it as your heart explodes, as your moment in time-space rips, as the Void collapses in, on, around, within you.

Can I hear you say it? Are you saying it? Screaming it?

No? You’re just sort of sitting at your computer? In your sweatpants? A thick, honeyed malaise slathered over you?

Hmm.

Me too.

So let’s embrace this rejection of the rejection together. Let’s share what we’re enjoying this week, these enjoyments specifically designed to keep us from screaming.

This is Monday Morning Commute.

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