Freaked figments
of a hive mind
matter not in these climes.
Nor do rusted rhymes
or bent bicycles.
The cyclical nature of fashion
screams out of the suicide wounds
bound to the collective delusion.
I bring these profusions
of disappointment
to dismantle achievement.
Holy bereavement!
This song’s out of tune,
out of luster.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 
Truths