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Sep 2019
Eyes gone dull, receding into comatose
Fingers full of dirt and hope, spinning sunflower
Power and lack thereof, the perception of those above looking down at the masses
These clashes seem to me, a supply chain theory, I want what you got, bombs pour out
Military industrial ore, we pour out the lifeblood of our children for soil
Foil snake, famished toil, ****** boils your tea
Three, one two many, send me space bound, no suit
Acute, angles I'm not seeing, the masses are fleeing, into the commonplace complacency of creatures of comfort
Watch the fort burn down, all your pretty ideas, replaced, rejected, genocides neglected
That's a bet, kid, I seek, you hid, cheese slid off the ******* jack pop snap
Lapdog lullabys, sticky morning crust in our eyes
Swatting at radioactive flies, landing on my lips and your hips
The road dips and tumbles, rumble strips and gravel licks
Rifle clicks on empty, nobody sent me, I came here on my own, mobile phone to the dome locked lengthways
Stingrays and hot water, burning protein venom
The waves are crashing down but the swell is just beginning
Patrick Kennon
Written by
Patrick Kennon  33/M/x
(33/M/x)   
231
     S Olson and multi sumus
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