I drop the the plastic bag with its plastic food and my plastic lenses fall from my melting face. I can see. My bubbling, brittle clothes shatter. I am free. I begin to run. I run to the the ends of the earth for one piece of soil that hasn't been raped by our plastic existence. I want to lay on the ground and make love to that one piece of Earth, to tell it that everything will be ok - that no one will exploit it for money or suck out its very essence to feed our gluttonous lifestyles. I want to say these things knowing they aren't true, because words are all I have now.
They aren't enough.