Emily Gorcenski

It is the time of the coward. It is the age of the liar and greed and avarice and lost boys and a dopamine hit and fractals and velocity and velocity and velocity and go, go, go. Don't stop. Don't stop to realize the indecency, the disloyalty, the dishonor, the discreditability, the parsimony, the hordes hoarded behind the gates the gatekeepers keep. This is the dawn of masculine energy.

It is the time of the coward. It is the age of the liar and greed and avarice and lost boys and a dopamine hit and fractals and velocity and velocity and velocity and go, go, go. Don't stop. Don't stop to realize the indecency, the disloyalty, the dishonor, the discreditability, the parsimony, the hordes hoarded behind the gates the gatekeepers keep. This is the dawn of masculine energy.

It is the time of the coward. It is the age of the liar and greed and avarice and lost boys and a dopamine hit and fractals and velocity and velocity and velocity and go, go, go. Don't stop. Don't stop to realize the indecency, the disloyalty, the dishonor, the discreditability, the parsimony, the hordes hoarded behind the gates the gatekeepers keep. This is the dawn of masculine energy.

Not the energy your father taught you about measuring twice and cutting once, but picking yourself up and how the sting of hydrogen peroxide means it's working. Or your grandfather, who spent the days you spent smoking weed behind a 7-Eleven serving on a torpedo boat waiting for the sharks.

Not the energy your father taught you about measuring twice and cutting once, but picking yourself up and how the sting of hydrogen peroxide means it's working. Or your grandfather, who spent the days you spent smoking weed behind a 7-Eleven serving on a torpedo boat waiting for the sharks.

Not the energy your father taught you about measuring twice and cutting once, but picking yourself up and how the sting of hydrogen peroxide means it's working. Or your grandfather, who spent the days you spent smoking weed behind a 7-Eleven serving on a torpedo boat waiting for the sharks.

Who never failed to stop to lend a hand to those in need or say grace before dinner or to help you with your math homework or teach you not to wear a necktie at a lathe. This is the year of cutting once and never measuring. Pencil in the blueprints with whatever comes out. It's faster that way. The season of hypocrites and not of confidence, but confidence men.

Who never failed to stop to lend a hand to those in need or say grace before dinner or to help you with your math homework or teach you not to wear a necktie at a lathe. This is the year of cutting once and never measuring. Pencil in the blueprints with whatever comes out. It's faster that way. The season of hypocrites and not of confidence, but confidence men.

Who never failed to stop to lend a hand to those in need or say grace before dinner or to help you with your math homework or teach you not to wear a necktie at a lathe. This is the year of cutting once and never measuring. Pencil in the blueprints with whatever comes out. It's faster that way. The season of hypocrites and not of confidence, but confidence men.

The masculine energy of the con, the scam, the bamboozle, the fraud. The pulling of the rug and the begging of the question. Now is the killing hour. The clock hands float over the blood in the streets and the rage and the rage and the uncorked hatred overflows. The minutes of impotence expanding, overflowing, fizzling. Deception gives way to more deception. Not a single promise is kept.

The masculine energy of the con, the scam, the bamboozle, the fraud. The pulling of the rug and the begging of the question. Now is the killing hour. The clock hands float over the blood in the streets and the rage and the rage and the uncorked hatred overflows. The minutes of impotence expanding, overflowing, fizzling. Deception gives way to more deception. Not a single promise is kept.

The masculine energy of the con, the scam, the bamboozle, the fraud. The pulling of the rug and the begging of the question. Now is the killing hour. The clock hands float over the blood in the streets and the rage and the rage and the uncorked hatred overflows. The minutes of impotence expanding, overflowing, fizzling. Deception gives way to more deception. Not a single promise is kept.

Rapaciousness and rape and abandonment and the cutting of corners and KPIs. A newborn died in a baby box in Italy because the alarm sensor didn't work. It is an honorless time. A time of only one question. Not how or may or can or if or whether, but when. How soon. No legacy, no history, no reputation. Build the factories, then abandon them. The soil keeps the memory.

Rapaciousness and rape and abandonment and the cutting of corners and KPIs. A newborn died in a baby box in Italy because the alarm sensor didn't work. It is an honorless time. A time of only one question. Not how or may or can or if or whether, but when. How soon. No legacy, no history, no reputation. Build the factories, then abandon them. The soil keeps the memory.

Rapaciousness and rape and abandonment and the cutting of corners and KPIs. A newborn died in a baby box in Italy because the alarm sensor didn't work. It is an honorless time. A time of only one question. Not how or may or can or if or whether, but when. How soon. No legacy, no history, no reputation. Build the factories, then abandon them. The soil keeps the memory.

And the burn scars, and the floodwaters, and the clear windshields where the splatters of bug guts used to be, and the images in the 20-year-old magazine still in the rack in the guest bathrooms, never used, that showed how children used to go sledding, and maybe the house is too big. No one comes by.

And the burn scars, and the floodwaters, and the clear windshields where the splatters of bug guts used to be, and the images in the 20-year-old magazine still in the rack in the guest bathrooms, never used, that showed how children used to go sledding, and maybe the house is too big. No one comes by.

And the burn scars, and the floodwaters, and the clear windshields where the splatters of bug guts used to be, and the images in the 20-year-old magazine still in the rack in the guest bathrooms, never used, that showed how children used to go sledding, and maybe the house is too big. No one comes by.

I shoveled the neighbor's walk in the snow and salted it so he didn't slip on the ice and could receive his mail. He's an old man. One of the few black men left living in this neighborhood that was theirs once. He sent me a letter. It went all the way to Richmond to come to my door. He's the last man with dignity.

I shoveled the neighbor's walk in the snow and salted it so he didn't slip on the ice and could receive his mail. He's an old man. One of the few black men left living in this neighborhood that was theirs once. He sent me a letter. It went all the way to Richmond to come to my door. He's the last man with dignity.