sentience
in the townships nether,
the life of the suburb
courses it's way through the brush of a young child's ragged hanging head,
stopping short a beat or two,
the hearts of hundreds
who give their own yet
thousands more
are denied
a future
for your
selfish
crave

snaking clouds of smoke
emissions illegally high.
over airwaves, i hear a convoy of trucks gather,
protesters
against the building before them

now?
now they lay quiet
it's all you've ever wanted

sickly sweet buttermilk
in wafer embossed silicon cases
made by those tarred hands
blacked lungs

Never.

Paid.

Staff.