and then there was one

standing to attention, tender tense and tensioned: objections uncorrected neglecting pretensions, missed affections it’s a mess out there: I have the disinfectant time to clean itself up in here:

conjecture suggests your decision’s affected by disaffections: selecting visions: precision collisions between being destitute and decadent,

point of reference: sickly cyclical poignantly critical; cynically political clinically mimicking; tinted platonic caressing rhetoric in unfairly fared affairs:

propagating shared grins and bears rare enough to care, polite enough to stare at the blind-sighted plight of the disadvantaged that might be mighty if they dared,

epitaphs for the brave reads the same as the depraved, failing understanding: ignoring the enraged scathing endangered societies that crowd en masse, crucifying us in the aftermath as the top of the class fight for ratings building greed over creed it’s a blast from the past,

overflowing dam, media craves war crimes over walking free, aristocracy built on the slavery of consuming currencies as we die hungry: socially and economically

behind closed doors, deals with the devils, pacts with banking whores, feeding frenzied make-believe curing the insecure,

adoring fairytale manicures: opinions based on myth, facts de facto folded, sound judgments astutely connected and commanded,

like waxwork: our reality is moulded, too hot to handle but we’ve let ourselves be scared of being scolded:

living in muted correctional facilities, disconnected communities servitude to human-made political penitentiaries,

killing us inside blinding aside all I ask is why, read between the lines, open up your eyes, dissected minds infected, gambling dimes a penny the shy kid cries on the sly,

injecting subjects subjected to punishment, this recession is relentless resenting the reckless, repenting confessions complex implicitly implicating concessions for sex and violence:

it’s classless. Who’s representing me, my humanity, my right to be when our homeless still sleep on the streets everyday of the week, sending out homegrown soldiers fighting hypothetical wars for weakened fleeting streets

we bleed, beef and feed famined seas of people in the Middle East and they treat us with illusioned states we are being defeated signing peace treaties survival of the weakest while police beat us in the streets because we express freedom of speech speeches

I’m speechless. Hold up, wait a minute, don’t let our generation sit here and kill it, open your eyes and feel it, isn’t it our time to heal it: to be the change we need to see, it’s not just an epiphany it’s real: it’s you and it’s me…

so as shimmering rivers of ink stream across deserted empty hands, raise your printed fingertips in glittering salute: come with me and take a stand.

ink is free, so...

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