En-crip-ing Time

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There’s autonomy in being vulnerable
In interdependence
Not a short-term one-bed with exhausting prices that never rest, just waits recurse from the next to the next
Their fragility felt
If this Machine is so clearly bleeding out
Of infinite wealth and endless expansion
Of frictionless desire
Impossible to quit (why would you even want that, they would say)
The truth is that chrono-capitalism is incompatible with crip life
Itself a time-altering parasite
And turning it into pain stoked values
Time crawls through me like a machine eating itself
As if we lived just to be exhausted
Burning something you can't hold
Between the fragile infrastructures and the cold indifference
They were embedded with the concept of ease
Bodies so perfect that shitting and fucking are mere performances
Histories like wounds are stitched in time
Like trails and paths over bodies
I was a body
A body
Bending under its own weight
When chrono's clock forgets to tick
Because futures mean to leave us behind
Temporal inequalities
Because life affirmation costs too much
Can we imagine futures of superfluous care, with a excesses of crips
Seeking coziness over efficient profits
As if we give up being rested, just to be consumed
Autonomy
Belonging is at the edge of its collapse
When there’s nothing left but slow afternoons to live in
There’s beauty in this cadence
Stillness
Inaction
Stretching like light upon light

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