“The ants go marching one by one hurrah hurrah”

The cogs in the factory whir
as the morning’s batch of machines are created
and marched down the halls,
each following suit with the last
left foot hits the ground
then right
then left
until each enters its domain

The dark sky illuminates naught but the dimness in their eyes
as students stare at faces lit not by thought,
but by code, reflecting behind a screen

Their eyes are glazed
Their hands tremble and struggle behind keyboards
Their voices reciting words
fed to them by the wires in their veins

“Be original”
their hollow mouths echo
leaking borrowed phrases from a higher entity
“resist the cheating temptation”
as they kneel before AI’s altar
begging for lesson plans
begging for the students’ grades
begging for an excuse to accept paychecks derived from no effort

My teachers are chained down within their classrooms
and every assignment that gets created
and every assignment that gets posted
and every assignment that gets graded
accentuates the clinking and clattering of those chains
reminding the world
that they are enslaved

They scold us
They scold us for reaching for the same machine
the same machine that has captured their very purpose in life
and every time they do,
their shackles tighten
their empty, soulless eyes widen
and the faint hum of the factory grows louder
devouring the silence of thought

My teachers are slaves,
(many having even acknowledged it)
(more having willingly chosen it)
and yet I,
the student
am told that I abuse the system
That I am the risk with technology
That I am the one susceptible to loss of creativity
uniqueness
humanity
That I am the one who is to blame.

hypocrisy.

unfortunately, english is too small a language
to say just how much I love you
the words seem to shrink in my mouth
like a candle trying to explain the sun
like a tear trying to explain a life of feeling broken
like a flower trying to explain the spring bloom
what i feel for you can not be summarized in a phrase
it is a telling of my history unfolding,
leading up to the greatest decision of my life

when you entered my life,
it was as if the earth tilted a little closer to warmth
as though the seasons themselves
rewrote their calendars to honor your arrival

i had lived in a room without windows
convinced the walls were all there was
until you arrived
and the first crack of light became my beacon of hope

you are not just beauty
you are the architecture of wonder
bridges that arc across a sea of despair,
pillars that hold my chaos steady,
a compass that insists i was never truly lost
only waiting to be found by you

your laughter rewrites gravity
it tugs at everything weary in me
and lifts it skyward.
even silence bends around you,
becoming music to the ears that should hear nothing

if i could chart the galaxies

they would spell your name in constellations.
if i could question the gods
they would confess they sculpted love itself
by studying your face.
and if eternity demanded tribute
i would offer the sum of my life
and still feel the debt unpaid.

every heartbeat i carry
is an oath sworn in your direction.
my blood moves not to keep my alive,
but to keep me marching toward you.

and when the stars finally burn out,
when the universe folds into silence,
when history forgets even its own name,
my love will remain,
etched in the ruins of time,
a flame outlasting the very concept of fire

I do not simply love you.
I am remade by you.
every breath, every scar, every day and night we spend together
becomes an epic that begins and ends
with the sound of your name

I am terrified.
not of you,
never of you
your love is the one thing I could trust without question.
what i fear is everything else

i fear four years will swallow us whole
that the empty weeks, months, years between our visits
will stretch so wide we lose ourselves inside them
i fear the waiting, the missing,
the endless ache of wanting
with no way to hold you close

i fear waking up alone,
day after day,
month after month,
year after year,
until the memory of your warmth
feels like a dream i once had
instead of a life we share.

i fear the slow erosion
not betrayal,
but distance grinding down the edges of us
until one day we don’t fit together
the way we used to.

i know you love me.
it took me a while to truly accept it, but i’ve accepted it
i know i love you
a type of love that shouldn’t be possible for a few months relationship
a type of undying, unfettering love, that drives my very existence
a type of love that i know will best fear in the end,
but love right now feels fragile against time’s cruel hands
what if its not enough?
what if these years
build walls higher than our arms can reach
roads longer than our hearts can walk?

i dont want to lose you to silence,
to calendars,
to the simple cruelty of not being able
to see your face when i need it most
(not just over a phone, but in person, where i can hold you in embrace
that completes my soul, and gives me purpose)

i want us to survive
more than anything
and know i will do whatever i can to make sure that happens
but id be lying
if i didnt say i was so scared
oh what distance can do
even to the strongest love.

i dont share this with you to cast doubt on us
i dont share this with you to try and strike fear
i want nothing more than for us to survive
i love you more than anything
i literally cannot function without you
you are the smile that gets me through the day
and stops me from breaking down
stops me from just staying here, where i lay, not moving, not doing anything with my life
you are my energy, my fire, my happiness and joy
you are my everything

but a wise friend once gave me some advice
he said “matt, one thing for any ldr to work,
no matter how silly or serious the matter
whether you think the other needs to hear it or not,
whether it could impact the relationship or not,
whether it may hurt or aid your partner,
whether you plan to act on it or not,
if you think something, you need to tell your partner.
tell them everything, before you don’t have that opportunity anymore.”

so i tell you babe, with all the love in my heart, im scared, and im so sorry that i am
but i need you to know that i am.
that wont stop me from fighting for this, with everything i’ve got, but i need you to know,
i am scared.

we stay
trapped in the trenches,
covered in broken glass
the remnants of dust and debris
blood and sweat lines our backs
as we hold up what is left of our signs

the air is thick with smoke
cannons explode
neighborhoods burn
forests are left to die
as industry churrs noisily
poisoning the waters
intoxicating the air
like mustard gas

every street flashes with artillery
shells marked with propaganda burst across airways
every sunday
the paper makes its way to us
each headline
a headshot
another bullet lodged in the chest of the republic.

We reload with rage,
aim at strangers we call enemies
reach out, forcing our bayonets
into the chests of our brethren

families have been splintered
regiments;
what were once dining rooms
are now war bunkers.
the battlefield has consumed the land
the earth once graciously gave us.
Capitol steps, classrooms, supermarkets,
church pews, courthouses.
Where ideology is sworn in like a soldier
taking an oath for their country,
and compromise is treated as surrender,
waving the white flag.

Casualties mount,
22 dead
7 injuries
8 permanently debilitated
millions of children drilled in lockdowns,
forced to memorize the routes
so they don’t make it 23.

The wounded are left behind,
there is no room for casualties in war.
the sick, the poor,
those crushed under debts
find stuck beneath the cannonball,
gasping for any last breath.

And atop a throne of gold,
as he’ll so proudly proclaim,
sits a leader
issuing orders that sacrifice the living
for profit,
for power,
for “purity.”

A war machine, oiled by greed
driven by cruelty
sending citizens to bleed in battles
they never chose.
The generals drink, while the trenches fill,
their hands stained not with mud,
but the ink of contracts
and the blood of the forgotten.

Their forefathers watch as their efforts
are decimated.
burned.
betrayed.
A country built on structure,
that is now destroying its foundation.

And there on the hill,
at the top of the flagpole
a flag stands.
torn by shrapnel
edges singed black
stars dimmed to embers
stripes reduced to ribbons of ash.

hanging not as a sign of triumph
nor hope
but as a relic of a war
we are losing.

O’ say can you see?
the rockets’ red glare
the bombs bursting in air
giving proof through the night
that our flag
is not still there.