Paroxysmal Distortion

You’re prearranged with all those thoughts of dread, rearranged for a propaganda fret. You are the few, you are the same, and you have been bought. By all who knew just what to say and do, holding change like it’s an enlighten noose. Monkeys it’s not the same without a thought Morals distorted as it fills your glass. Pungent as you taste the last, drop of all who’ve came and all who’ve gone. You watch them as they smile and book. The television shows of smut. Behind the camera they still cook your bones. Stay tuned till this intermission, behind the curtain of rendition. You’ll find them with the chain that holds your thoughts. Now as you vote for change, you shed like a dog who whines to be fed. Where’s your politician with his cross. He’s holding all the change you gave. In a box prearranged, rearranged and saved. Just in case his future comes to a halt. So here’s your fortress of solitude, hold it close as you choose. For a mirror imagine of your thoughts. Hold it closer as you think our fractured structure on the brink. It could depend on you to make them fall.