Come pick me up, future self!
Let's sit together in the warm
glow of green LEDs
and vinyl.
On
which side
of the street did you park?
Twelve minute walk to the bus
and you're already there!
So take me with you
and we can
reminisce
about
6am
shifts
and ice
storms and broken sidewalks.
Remember when you used to
weave around whores
and drug dealers
and hear
nothing
but
slurs
and foreign tongues
and hate for our people?
Let's listen now to the comforting metronome of a turn signal!
How much do you pay
the statehouse
Jews
for
the
privilege
of being a slave with an engine?
What's it like outside the noose
of this tether, on the other
side of this vile 15
minute city, out
there in the
whole
wide
rest
of
this vast
fallen world?
You've seen something other
than Albany in the last
ten
years,
how marvelous!
You've seen something other
than the inside of a bus,
been somewhere
other
than
a
dirty
retail
concrete
warren, felt something
other than despair.
"The yoke of slavery," he wrote,
"is, and always will be, the most unpleasant experience that mankind can endure."
To work so hard, for so long,
for so little, and every
day a dollar buys
a little less,
and
every
paycheck
is a little thinner
as the pedo tyrants
shave a little more off
the top and the balance
beam crosses the
midpoint and
crashes
down
on
the
backs
of workaday normies.
The triumph of the Jew!
Our bones ground into dust
to scour their empty
streets, their new
slaves content
to stare into
their black
mirrors,
eat
animal
fodder, submit
to needles and pills,
and work like dogs until
they drop, never feeling
the freedom of the
open road, never
having the
liberty
to
stake
their claim
in a world of
their own choosing,
to build, to create, to make
a family into a nation, to hear
the echo of an ancestral
voice in the cry of a
firstborn
child,
to
lift
their
eyes to
a horizon they
conquered with their
own ingenuity and stubborn
persistence to
BE FREE.
So come pick me up, future self,
and you can tell me all about
your new life and the work
you do and the home
you make
and
the
garden
you tend
and the family
you cherish and
what road you took
to get there and maybe,
maybe someday
I'll join you.
March 14, 2025
