But first, coffee

My mind is muddy and I yearn for the caffeine to cross the blood brain barrier. The first sip starts with an invigorating smell as the veil begins to lift.

 

Quietly, I long for this black devilish brew to work its magic.

As if waking from a deep sleep, the imprint of a long-forgotten dream lingers like a wing-clipped butterfly waiting to escape its ghostly cage. The door creaks open and the memories take flight, scattering amongst the fuzzy nostalgia of a collapsing world gone by.

 

The only world we were told we could save.

And as my heartbeat quickens and my mind focuses, I dust myself off to emerge blinking from my house arrest into the clinical light of a brave new world. 

 

From behind the cold comfort of my blue screen, the war against the virus is now mutating into a zero-sum tirade between the jabbed, the un-jabbed, and the gibberish as a bio-weaponised herd turns in on itself.

 

Sill alienated, masked and my voice muzzled, I patiently join the line to embrace the new normal with an open arm. Baptised in the fire of a singular needle.

 

The new gods have arrived and they say they are here to save us from ourselves.

And yet we continue to sit at the feet of our doom scrolling alters like silent lambs looking for a sign that will lead us out of this rupture, and point towards a deeper future.

But first, coffee…