Good Night, America!

On a large military scale the masses are feeble, weak, tender, oppressed, misrepresentative, and picky as hell.
I can’t hear your bitching and moaning.
You don’t recognize my constitutional acknowledgements, but I’m particularly hype to a false precinct.
I’ll forever acknowledge my Post 9/11 World and addictions.

Bleeding eyes are completely etched out with micro-tear reactions molesting sentiments of the clotting-blue-vein bunch that explode frantically like Fuchsias falling to the dirt on a summer’s eve.

I heard that there’ll be a Monday-morning-brunch-hunch.
It could take care of the unknown.
It could make the present muffled.

Immense majorities’ voices drown in Bureaucratic desires that
slash the very freedom that blesses this atrocity.

My balls burn and I’m pissed!

Ah, shit. My cable bill is due.
Not enough channels to subdue this post-psychological avenue.
Children’s jubilance sprang and sprung daisies, orchids, and poison lilies.
I’m out of cigarettes and I’m out of my mind.

Good Night, America!