Convulse

It’s hard to hear through the static
the radio tuned to a dead station
and people who can’t tell the difference between
Fucking and fighting
in bedrooms and alleyways
until they settle for a passionless toil
defiant screams becoming despairing sobs
and people are drowning in the shit that flows
through airwaves and streets as they buy-buy-buy
consuming planned obsolescence
and obedience
more obscene than words or naked forms
could ever hope to be
They’re staring at the sun and burning out their eyes
while their souls are cloistered and closed
don’t wear that shirt because it will offend
but don’t go naked either
only rocking the boat can save
the ones who cling fragile to the edges

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