Whose Imagination Are We Using To Free Ourselves?

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Are we even using our own?

Feeling trapped by the imaginaries of dead cis men who can write.

Who were seen as huMAN.

Whom weren't visibly monstrous.

Whose lives weren't guided by the coerced fugitivity of their white counterpart's Law & Order & school

& voting.

Who weren't THEE commodity themselves.

Whom posthumously rule us by caging our bodies and imaginations.

I won't cite what I write.

I won't attribute my freedom to the knowledge production and organization of The West,

but to the destruction of it.

By the unhinging of their Normal here & now.

Fuck an education if it's only grounded in the hierarchies of forced book learning w/o respect to learning outside of the institution,

the book,

the academy.

You didn't learn anything from the moon today?

You haven't gleeeaned anything from a flower's constant gifts to the lands we'll soon become?

Our ancestors didn't free themselves from slaveships and ownerships with oral traditions and careful yet desperate plannings of their own?!

On their own.

R