Death Throes.

Americana Injustica

Down break the constraints,
of numbed out skulls,
talking losses and gains,
in a world over-full,
of colossus domains,
consumption of souls,
with a sickening array,
pulled from pocketful’s,
from martyrs to saints,
from diamonds to coal,
the world that we’ve made,
from the crust of its core,
elements we’ve bled,
‘til they bleed no more,
which circles back again,
to the masses of numbskulls,
blind to it and talking shit,
being swallowed in the folds,
in an ever-sinking tar-pit,
failing all across the globe,
a state of perpetual bullshit,
encoded in the frontal lobe,
a self-renewing cesspit,
that every human undergoes,
there’s no blowing through it,
it’s right beneath the nose,
submerged electrical conduit,
live wires and lives exposed,
we have each been told this,
will come to its final close,
safe to say recent movements,
are simply our painful death throes.

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