Propaganda (Remove filter)
Optics
It runs amok inside of my head.
It arrogantly prances as if I were dead.
It thumbs its nose whenever I try
to quell its intelligence-insulting lie.
It bleeds the eyes with the morning news.
It voids in me with its monstrous views.
It winds me up as a talking head,
then perturbs me at night when I go to bed.
Sliding along, biding our time,
or still soaking up the trumpeted slime,
...
Tuesday 13th July 2021 5:35 pm
Recent Comments
R A Porter on Bungalow Dreaming
55 minutes ago
Tom Doolan on Bungalow Dreaming
1 hour ago
Bethany Sallis on Final visit? ( fictional )
2 hours ago
John Coopey on Bungalow Dreaming
2 hours ago
John Coopey on Final visit? ( fictional )
2 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Tom Doolan
3 hours ago
R A Porter on Bungalow Dreaming
3 hours ago
Greg Freeman on Bungalow Dreaming
4 hours ago
prakhar dhama on Should This Night End?
4 hours ago
prakhar dhama on You
4 hours ago