welcome to the mass grave
with bodies clad in a red monstrosity
the carousel of barren rituals
where drones fall from a falsely spiced ceiling
welcome to the world of sheep
where the nightmare stares at you in mirrors
and creeps through grasping delusions
to merge with hope
look there! I’ve got a catch!
again and again, again and again
the repetition of the past
until the bourgeois man discovers
that his much-touted viewing box is fake
that the bacchanalian feast is over
it turns out to be too late to turn the tide
the dancing of the fools
the paralysis of thought
over what could not be praised
during shootouts nearby
turn around! there it is!
again and again, again and again
the repetition of the past
Fastfood romantics 
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