Sleepless nights

The last few weeks my subconscious has been fraught with the idea of loss. Loss of meaning. Loss of identity. Loss of country. Loss of home. Loss of life.Any clear-eyed analysis of the state of the world – that's not hell-bent on toeing the ultra wealthy's line – feels utterly hopeless. Dystopic, even.Miserly misanthropes wielding the helm of a golden calf named "Market." Men who lick the boots of fascist in exchange for the vague promise of more.The fascists, preoccupied with spectacle and their own kayfabe. They've wrestled control from their (former) constituents through wanton corruption and the violation of sacred norms.The conspiracy is no longer theory, it's plain-as-day practice. Nobody who holds power has any interest in service. Their plan is to deal pain, excise wealth, and profit from destruction.I know, it sounds depressing. It is depressing. I wish I was talking about a near-future work of fiction. But conditions, today, feel hopeless.If it's not the rapidly worsening…