Prose Poetry

Something Has Stopped Working

Our country — no longer works for us

Lennie Varvarides
The Howling Owl
Published in
May 8, 2024

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Photo by Marianna Smiley on Unsplash

Touched, with textured friction bouncing to thought, like a child’s kick left yellowed, engulfed with bite. Something has stopped working. Distracted by suspended limbs, absent from their resting place. Something has stopped working. This is abstract living…These marks are still fresh. Flesh unhinged. Syringe, rusty with neglect. The bird tweet; no longer synonymous with the rising star. Something has stopped working. Malfunctioned into drying consciousness — we gork. No longer pouring out our rage: it drains lethargy. Disengaged enthusiasm. — We have stopped working. The marches are full of love, but love alone cannot renew the debris. Disobedience follows as it must. Brave, found hovering, unsustainable circumstances. Friends are now foes. Friends are now foes. Friends are now foes. Something has stopped working. We have stopped working. Our country — no longer works for us.

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Lennie Varvarides
The Howling Owl

London-based dyslexic creative working in development. Founder of DYSPLA, founding editor @ The Museum of the Neurodivergent-Aesthetic.