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Run your mouth till it runs off
and bites off her tongue.
Words flung like phlegm from
the bottom of blackened lungs.

The singing hero becomes the unsung.

The name don't ring bells,
it breaks down the house door.
Lays the residents down flat
on the floor. Panicked to their core.

Then cracked tiles snap.
Falling through the floor, as the
water pours. Floods the basement,
drowns the poets and the dwelling.

Smelling the decomposing, the
neighbours dread the scenes gore.
A simple drug scandal?
Or the ****** of a *****?  

For years they couldn't bare
to think for any more than two
seconds about what stories played
out behind that door.

But their tongues twisted truth
like it was a noose for a neck.
No empirical evidence, yet told
all when the police did inspect.

Funny how the mind winds fiction
out of nothing but simple prediction.
Today:
My heads a little cloudy.
Don't think it will rain though.
Passing through people
Is scarier for me than it is them.  
They feel cold for a second.
          I feel infinitely alone.

I shake them and they don't move.
I try and kiss her eyes closed.
She doesn't even blink. I sink
              into my nothingness

I think just as they do.

I feel like them too.
But whenever our paths cross.

I pass right on through
I've been a ghost for so long it's starting to haunt my thoughts.
Mr Milgram keeps the social animals at bay.
Experiments on them, sedates then lets them play.
For he knows all too well how violent they can get.
And he knows that he is their council, father and vet.
So he takes his job seriously- well you would have to.
Imagine all the ravaging these savage animals could do-
digging around in side each other for love, lies and food.  
They would surely turn on him too-
At least thats how its understood.  

So with his big sharp needle- he injects each ones neck.
Dressed Immaculately in a suit, they don’t refute but show respect.  
You see by now they have all became so heavily addicted.
That they long for his visits, without him they are afflicted.
The need for authority, to obey, is so inherent.  
These fatherless children are faithless and need a parent.  
But not the kind that loves and shows warm affection.
But the kind that would ****-
Even themselves for their protection.  

So in their toxic psychosis they wander oh so blissfully.
Each moment is a marvel, their reality a mystery.
But Mr Milgram looks uneasy, his brow always furrowed.
Maybe its because he knows how deep the thought has burrowed.
For he see’s the world exactly as it is.
They see a construction, a realised bliss.  
Imprisoned he wanders in but seven shades of light.
And when darkness comes, he understands that it is the night.

He knows it’s not long till he can take away their being.
Turn them into brute instruments, blindly led to their freeing.  
To be relinquished of all guilt, but still able to operate.
To carry out without question, any demands he might make.
For their are millions of nails that he needs them to hammer.  
And hammer doesn’t question,
It just agrees with the consensus of the clamour.  
Then Mr Milgram can return to his simple carpentry ways.
Knowing that the social animals have been safely led astray.
Inspired by Milgrams study of Obedience in social psychology
I need something from you.
I have in the past, I still do now
and I will do in the future.  

So, no matter what you do
I'll be there. As the biggest
bully in the playground,
I wont allow anything to happen
to you.

And though it's breaking my heart
to watch these innocent children suffer
and burn,  in the fires of a faithless war.
I will not turn.
I will not turn my back on you.

For I still need something
and I will still need tomorrow.

And though I know you are
savagely slaughtering and starving
the innocent in the name of feeble retaliation.
I will stand behind you, as the strongest of all
nations.

" UNCLE SAM YOU ARE SPENDING SO MUCH TIME LOOKING TO         THE FUTURE THAT YOU CANNOT SEE WHAT IS IN FRONT OF YOU"
Cease Fire.  Please

— The End —