repeat my words. a lofty definition of a “movement” encapsulating “us.” a doubtful power commodified, intrinsic. the great revolt is never going to happen in the mystifying way you hoped. i fucking promise people are too comfortable to ever walk away. no hope. i am finished with your songs of union, forever acting like today will be the day the revolution is the work you’re doing, not in some concept that we lost along the way.
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