The Chorus That Consumes Us
Ever have a song
Stuck in your head,
Saying you have thirst
For sound koolaid?
Koolaid, you know,
The stuff that controls
The body metronome,
Whether moving the mind
Faster…or stopping it altogether.
Fans become cultists.
Do you have Bad Blood?
Are you Never Gonna
Not Dance Again?
Do you imagine tacos,
Magical tacos, falling out of the sky?
At concerts, do brain waves
Become one wave,
While the masses belt it out,
Swaying lighters to and fro,
Predicting the beat,
Or repeat
What words have caught hold
Over you
And taken the moths,
Flying out of leather folded homes en masse,
Flapping wing beat to song.
A plague is afoot and hive brain has won.
Is that dope, or dopamine,
Helping me work, work out, love life, escape life,
Or take in a better or more macabre scene.
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