with a stinging slap on the back of the working class
touchscreen devices spit technobabble kicks in the ass
their digital feeds designed to quasi-feed the gray organic mass…

they say:
push back and brush aside the radical fringe mentality
embrace the crowd dont be so proud
just judge others' conformity
you win if you turn in the rebelling infectious minority…

but they'll:
they'll pick apart your words
they'll dissect your every thought
they'll extract your memories
they'll fill you with the Wine.

schematically diagramming the populace
blocks and boxes numerically in their place
programmed by nature
then rewritten as a race...

packed into stacking cubes stripped of individuality
every color reduced to brown-gray neutrality
fingerprints removed to fit the Grand Totality...

an apology

blistering heat from the scourged and scoured sun is turning and burning my skin to a radiant dayglow rainbow  of blues purples and reds alm...