We begin not as one but as part of another

The result of a merging of bodies

Two becomes three (or more)

And those two contain material traces of four

And those four eight

And so on

When we emerge the material bond is severed

Blood is spilt

 life is risked in its increasing

The bond becomes symbol

Reinforced by touch, by food from nipple, by a belonging

We call this love

‘Globalisation’ is not what the word implies

The unholy religion of radical differentiation

Turns our shared sacred material

Into profane particles

We are encouraged to be always a-part

With only surface interactions, cold economic transactions, crossings of synthetic membranes

Where ‘trust’ is weighted, legislated for by police in the pay of the powerful

Our surfaces are not real, but manufactured by false knowledge

The epistemology of control

Sponsored by the jealous moguls who fear their own death

Yet have never known what its like to take the risk of living.

They try to convince us that there is nothing but emptiness beneath these surfaces

By hypnotising us into numbness with the shiny messages of consumer culture

They are cutting through the bond like butter

Bleeding us of love and replacing it with an infusion of insatiable greed

For useless objects

These great men ( and the women who become great men)

Have minds so tight shut with terror

They are tiny

They are fruit that has withered and fallen from the tree

Their rotting corpses litter the ground beneath it

Like a disease

Poisoning it with their toxic dogma