After hours, brain blasted,
shall I learn to be ephemeral?
Perennial mischief showers.
Accidental flowers fringe the font.
Don’t make a maelstrom of this,
nor argue circles with the squares.
Even the most timely of repairs
won’t save me from the sloganeers
repackaging unfounded fears
for mass consumption.
I don’t like the look
of your assumptions, champ;
so chomp on this — your hierarchy’s busted.
Come at me whilst I dig deep
in this distress, overdressed of course,
but that’s just my M.O.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 