Viscious Cyclone [a.free.write]

Leaving behind the bigotry of our beloved fathers without losing that essential humanity that they seeded into our humble and patient mothers who had hatreds of their own pumping through blood vessels and into breast milk that sustained our innocence that we so readily exchanged for the moldy rye and bitter bourbons that soften the blows we will receive in our adolescence as we watch our elders die the slow and cruel death of age and its ravages on their solidarity of mind and body and of course we prefer to assume soul.  And that soul we like to imagine as an angel more because we fear our own destiny than from any sense of pity or sorrow at the loss of loved ones though that's not without merit in our mourning that is quickly back-burnered by our own successes and advances as we march heartily toward the our own five o'clock shadows, shaking the sweaty nervous palms of our offspring as they watch our parents die in horror and they weep while we stoically avoid the truth that is held in the passing over of suns and moons that we worship and idolize and build monuments to in hopes that they'll choose another as their sacrifice leaving us one more day to live.