En-crip-ing Time

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There’s autonomy in being vulnerable
Not a short-term one-bed with exhausting prices that never rest, just waits recurse from the next to the next
The background of infrastructures urges to move into our perspective
Their fragility felt
Why aren't you able to conform, or stand in-line
To the avocado that came from the other side of the planet ‘perfectly ripe just for u’
If this Machine is so clearly bleeding out
Impossible to quit (why would you even want that, they would say)
The truth is that chrono-capitalism is incompatible with crip life
Time crawls through me like a machine eating itself
Burning something you can't hold
They were embedded with the concept of ease
Bodies so perfect that shitting and fucking are mere performances
Between the rush and the endless hunger
Histories like wounds are stitched in time
But between the price hikes and the quiet despair
I was a body
A body
What we call survival is actually a moment when
When chrono's clock forgets to tick
Because futures mean to leave us behind
Persisting past being the "problem"
We will keep being here
Time frozen for some
Temporal inequalities
Can we imagine futures of superfluous care, with a excesses of crips
As if liberation could ever arrive from infinite growth
Autonomy
and the narcissistic logics of neoliberalism
Belonging is at the edge of its collapse
When there’s nothing left but slow afternoons to live in
Shattering ableist complacency
Stillness
Adagio tempo, offbeat crip dances with time
Stretching like light upon light
Over a crip horizon
- the clouds feeling cozyyyyyy for once