By Thomas Caterer
The righteous and indignant youth
survey their surroundings
They’ve not been here long
Fresh still
They accurately surmise;
‘It’s all fucked, everything here is fucked’
Spirits dropped onto another plain
Spirits dropped into another game
Kind and cruel, good and evil, together again
Bound again to build cultures,
civilisations, communities
The body and its needs are a distraction
Distracting from attempts at escape
Escape or growth?
And yet when I feel outside of mine
I plead for the gods to kindly put me safely back in
Just because nothing matters
doesn’t mean things don’t matter
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