When the choice is between two sides of the same coin,
does the side ever make a difference?
When betrayal comes by blood or by water,
does it matter which one insists on being thicker?
When your house is wired with grenades, inside and out,
do you care which pins drop first?
When you’re nothing but collateral
in the negotiations of parasites bloated on your blood,
does freedom mean anything more
than a fevered figment of imagination?
When your existence only ever finds meaning in death,
does activism serve any purpose
beyond turning you into convenient propaganda for the moment?
When your lives are split from the spleen between Hamas and Israel’s death tolls,
do foreigners chanting Free Palestine
change a damn thing at all, or even mean any more than stinking pile of bullshit?
When you know slogans are all you are and all you will ever be,
do you bury your burnt children, your stabbed husband,
in the pity of strangers
or do you ask them to shut the fuck up
so you could count your measured breaths in rented silence?
Your lived truths don't reach them
for deafness and dumbfuckery are the easiest paths to delusion
and delusion is the assured pre-requisite
to being heroes in a war they would not fight if they truly had to.
More importantly, so they can pretend to be revolutionaries,
you must drop dead like flies.
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