vision of the masses

I see our world and the people of our country strung out on the drug of commerce, commute, control, and fame, worse than cocaine, just as destructive on our brains.  I see scattered masses, ignorance in classes, but who is to blame, the sheep or the shepherds, businesses or buyers.  Fill the graves and tombs of tomorrow, beg steal and borrow your way to the top to a place where you can cast all your trace under a rug.  I see the army of truth, the fighters of free, the dogs of war done wrong, done up, fighting with sickness shell shock fears of the dark, they rise, and they fall, angry tides like packs of wolves burning in the dawn.  The rest of us stink and squalor in our funerary dreams, because before they come you are dead, but the people who were born into anything would like you to believe they are tangible things.  They've commandeered our resources, hijacked our gov't and are growing bored as they charge force into foreign land.  The poor stand like puppets, shot at inaccurately by other poor and weak. I'm sick as fuck and it's so hard to speak, it's so hard to reach, so hard not to let my soul rot another day in the businessman's paradise, corporate diatribe, fabulous and famous carnival ride, where we all drink and get high on life cuz it works out even though it's not always nice, mostly not nice, hardly ever nice.......... you are too fucking strong to cry, too attached to inks and dyes, to wounded souls that hide behind melodramatic eyes, strong runners thighs, but it's a fucking meat shop of lies, we are the lord of the fucking flies, one where the weak all die, piggy survives, markets his eyes, and buys everyone's home and calls it his own........fuck

displeasure

command line prompt
command line pro
command line
command  in
command
comm
co
cool like fall and spring hanging out brown grass dream
cooperative junction into absence and history hindering belief
constant reminders of every little thing
coordination while flushing
commenting on disbelief
complicating grief
communion
union
un
ion
i
on
no place for old men, young men
navigating through shadows
negating ferocity with battles
nightly standing watch when you can not see
no one knows but those stained by living belief
numbers, tags, calculating
nymphs ride in broken minds meflaquin edging suicide