The battle against COVID-19 raged on insidiously in the United States of America. “Flatten the curve,” the new mantra now, doesn’t feel useful. I tried every day to intentionally carve out some time to not be so sad about the spread in my area. At home, where I am free from death, it still felt like being a prisoner in the movie “The Platform.” At night, looking up at the moon, I wished we could escape all this death around us.
Oh, the lives lost because of the lies uttered by the orange-tinted excrement in the White House! Damn him!
We were trapped now. The stash of toilet paper I had on hand would get us through for a bit. Eventually, we’d need to venture out, walk amongst others as if in a maze to avoid them. What has this great land become? The social media chatter says everything is a wreck. The last thing heard, “It’s a democratic hoax!” Oh, crawlback from under the rock from which you came! I wish I were armed, and he right in front of me. But instead, I proceeded to saw off my arm, which held my phone: crazy times, crazy measures.