I asked myself 

Why do u find it so difficult to write non fiction?

And I think,or at least my first thoughts are that: 

Because I Am shocked that this is reality, while some of what I write is fantasy in the spectacle of that which cannot be, I don’t actually exist in the knowing of this fact. 

How do I know what can and cannot be? I only know what I have experienced and even in this I must ask if my experience was filtered through expectation, or angles of perception. I’m saying that I don’t know what I don’t know and I only know angles of what I do know and so, how could I know what’s possible? 

I know for sure that the earth exists and everything we need to thrive is here, I know it is human choices that have caused the things that we experience like poverty neglect etc and I know that because of the universal commitment to capitalism and creating a safe haven to make it against the charging tides, rulers, and climates- many resources are hoarded either physically and literally or virtually through the acquisition of funds and therefore the means to claim part of this capitalistic kingdom. 

In other words, who has the time? not many. Many are simply surviving while evil convinces them constantly that their feelings of unfairness are actually caused by their own need to work harder.

Did you ever wonder why the primary foundation of hard work is keeping one’s head down, unless of course you are focused on another who has achieved what you are looking to achieve?

For instance, much like a horse who has a carrot strapped to their forehead in order to keep them from noticing that they’re being used. 

You are being used to continue your own destruction and you think because it glitters it must at least have some gold, right?

That’s not good enough.

The children in Gaza can’t sleep at night.

-🥀