"Airship of Theseus"
thick, orc-like aesthetics
timbleful of dawn scrimmage
hunger in the hogan
ahead, only dread-onus
maybe future's merch-spiel
in the main runs dorp-sunset
antelucan echoes
orcs on my mind come blindfold
wipe the windshield Herschel
Disgusted at how the spirit of gaming has infiltrated every sphere, from news that can only see politics as team sports, to a class system increasingly devolving into winners punishing losers; from art subcultures that conflate status with achievement, to entertainment based solely upon tricking you into falling for false promises; truth is not just bent in the interest of the game, it is not even factored into the equation. And a place has already been prepared for those who’ve given up or been forced out of the game: this is all that keeps me playing, sheer mulishness. (Instead, i imagine i have found my own way of playing. This is to want to be misunderstood. …Thus i count myself among the Seekers-of-Blame.)
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