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After Hanif Abdurraqib

There’s something visually poetic about a man sleeping under a shrine of himself what good will your vanity do you? what good will your billions do you? We worship everything from money to power. The man in the White House surely sleeps clutching onto his ego. I’d like to think of him painted above a fireplace. Does the picture corrupt itself with every tweet? Maybe the orange begins to tint itself as it rots away. This is a dangerous assumption. Believing that there is a soul to be trapped away in a painting WHAT GOOD will your vanity do you? I laugh at all your billions I laugh at all your power The institutions created to oppress me and my ancestors will crumble. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. I ask again. What good will your shrines do you When they are nothing but piles of ashes beneath His feet? What purpose will your vanity serve? What can billions of ashes buy when everything else is but a pile of ash. Step down from your castle. Tear down all your shrines. There will be no peaceful slumber tonight. Or stay there... It will be much more poetic to watch you crash down from high above.

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