When the ants stop marching one by one...

This was a story I wrote mostly from memory while in month two of seven of my incarceration in the Texas prison-industrial complex. Whether insect, plant, animal, or human, we are all pests to the state and our other enemies. In here, I attempt to relate and draw inspiration from our shared struggles. I kept the story in it's original version, but at the end of this zine I added some additional information.

Creativity, rage, desire, and resilience can ferment from within the worst conditions. Being denied food, letters, and access to information can force an inmate into creating works of arts from the most limited circumstances. Unfortunately, most of these works never make it out of bars.

This is for those words that never got past the disgusting barrier of a razor wire, bricks, and bars.

Till the Texas skyline burns dim from the last prison's dwindling ashes; till the last factory farm is taken over by invasive and wild beauty; till the last border crumbles under its own absurd existence; till the last ant marches on... there will be actions of resistance.

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