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?