The dawn of the massacre strikes us bright,
with its leaking blood red light and blinding our sights;
the center a pale white, a hope we just might
latch on to
and pray for
hope and justice.

“Why is there so much global work”, spits my peers,
disgusted and knee deep in the salted meer—
the hunterschools interface suffocates us and it leers
above our heads
a storm brewing
and the rain is scalding and hot.

Seventy-three texts from my classmates.
We pray that our assignments won’t be too late.
Because god there’s so much global work. why is there so much of it. We get one sub and then everything just comes burning, what the hell m8??
And we face the dusk
heads to the moon
clutching our blank maps that we have to fill out in clenched fists.