I think about how
Living today makes us cold—
It’s easier to not care
If people are just programs
And their death is just
A runtime error.
The man next to me
Is leaning back and forth
Compulsively/drunkly/incontrollably
This program has a glitch.
As we near my stop
And consequentially his too
I rise and glance down
At the seat in front of me
Someone has sharpied “METH” on it
Maybe that’s his malfunction—
Or perhaps society praises
Fucking up
The same way Christians praise
Jesus Christ.
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