the final things

flags and guns
useless pronouns
mice in rain
society is
strapped to a white table
and kept
in a constant state
of decay

captured and creeping closer to the edge
nine lazy leaders
wash the mountain spirit
from our fragile faces
and still we refuse to see

the media is an outlet of hate
but i still believe in love
(i killed my television long ago)

art is our only disguise
from the final things

the madness of the world
rarely phase me
it’s the madness
of useless nights
stale an unending
that continue
to hammer the soul

forget this absurd season finally
the shadow
will never gain substance
and i’m waiting
for the gods to laugh
and recycle
all this human refuse



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