All this loss

The morning I read that the Japanese Otter had been declared extinct, I thought to myself, “Fuck humanity”, and felt the overwhelming hopelessness of a species that did nothing but live, and for that was punished alongside the greatest criminals by being wiped from this life.

How do you turn these things into beauty when even the words we write are being destroyed by the trees we cut down for the paper ink needs. How do you feel the loss of things when loss to most is the moments before finding your phone and finding that there’s no more milk in the fridge. Still, that sort of loss is tainted with “found” and when do we really know what “extinction” means?

Between the politics of religion and science, between the left and the right, the lambs are still the ones being slaughtered as we celebrate the coming of spring. And what is spring but the dance between life and death?

What justifies a war where the innocents are the only ones who lose? Who will we have left to mourn our loss when all that’s left of this green world is the enterprise of death, and the gods: oh those poor sodden gods are drowning their sorrows for creating such a species as humanity. I don’t really give a shit about being poetic about this because when responsibility is left to the few that don’t care, extinction is something that we caused, and something we’ll forget until the next time someone checks the fridge and finds there’s no more milk.