Liam Connors

From November 6, 2024

The American dream
Is not a dream,
Not a nightmare
But a crushing,
Suffocating,
Pulverizing,
Agonizing,
Episode of sleep paralysis.
A purgatorial space
Where hope exists
Only to mock those silly enough to call it a friend,
Where a flicker of light exists
only to remind you of the absolute darkness,
Where you try to convince yourself the demons don’t exist
Even as they stand directly in front of your eyes.
A liminal space
Where victory is impossible
But giving up is not allowed,
Where the body is numb
Aside from the excruciating pain,
Where control feels attainable
But only for those that are not you.
A dark, dark place
Where love is absent
And hate is plentiful,
Where humanity has been lost
To something far more sinister,
Where a man without morals
Can become the leader of the nation.
Twice.