vultures
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They’re editing the dictionary in the dead of night,Crossing out ‘fascist’, underlining ‘polite’.They’re selling cheap comfort in a patriotic red,While they’re building new cages inside of your head. I got my free speech on a corporate leash.A trigger warning disclaimer before I can screech. And they told me my volume was frankly a crime,So I’m
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They lit candlesfor a man who played with matches. Called him a martyr for a fire he stoked. Grieved him like a prophet -as if his tonguewas not slick with gasoline. And the others laughed, relieved karma had chosen right. Cheeredlike blood was a punchline. Danced on his gravewith the same dead eyeshe once usedto
I Wrote This Instead of Screaming 