Lumpen! If

scully 59 James Scully Lumpen! If capitalism kills it's not always with a bullet into a black, not always a radiated worker high on grass, packing an old atomic sub reactor in concrete, for burial at sea, not always, even, in boxes of boys stiff as marines it kills naturally, its murders are suicides accidents or justifiable homicides, most don't appear to happen, even if you aren't laid off for life cut off how can you make ends meet the flat jammed who wouldn't scream at husband wife kids one kid yelling down the street Tm gonna bust that fuckin spie the girl shy to the point of torment, scratching at dirt a third faking karate grooves superhuman concentration, who wouldn't blow brains out to alcohol drugs soap operas TV football music music music motorcycles quick lays stereo on the porch, out the window, in cases, rip offs betrayals whiplash comebacks not that there are not good times too 60 the minnesota review the car up on cinder blocks months on end, working it over with a beer in the slow, close sun of a Saturday afternoon though no one in the beginning chose to live this way no one wanted to crash racing around and around, just to get on, to not to be rust, used up, over whelmed by this system whatever it is this gelatinous mass murder, in which they are more and more stuck turning more colorful, sporting more flagrant heraldic tattoos, Christ's head on his bicep, the blue butterfly alighting at her shoulder, this in which they are moving yet still in colorful clothes, colorful language, ever more colorful freedoms that don't fly, deaths that hardly ever got out alive from this atrocity where the man beats the woman breaking glass in the night this agony, where they are beautiful yet hurtful to look on like a live wire, broken crackling and dancing dangerous in the street going nowhere ...