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  was I broken? am I always a multitude of sharp pieces intertwining other clusters of sharp pieces of you, of us of our kind, and the others was i ever not in multiplicity was I ever one? what was before I? what has produced me? what was before mother, father, child that triangle of oppression the single cell of the beast the beast called society machinery beast of productive failures womb of all ill we produce since we fail to just be we create in constant lack to seal the crack the crack of noneness, only anxiety remains intact   there was none, nothing, and less than nothing then pieces of a thing we recognize as anger and then ripples of wills a multitude of wills, of power, of anti-power of violence creations are violent glorious life requires death in death, we produce and produce and produce life were there options?

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