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(Frightening Visions of) Orange Armageddon.

Play into the hands
of the enemy,
eagerly molesting.

Malleable wads of clay
in really, really
fucking small hands…

Drag packs of sycophants
along, entranced
by your charisma.

Get off
on their wide eyes

(like, mirrors, right?)

spinning down the spirals
of sick hypnosis

like the goddamn Pied Piper
leading his rats
off the cliff
like lemmings,

descending willingly
into the hungry
void,
yawning inconceivably
wide.  

All with your copper-colored
finger on the button,
trigger-happy weight of history
behind you, volatile,
pushing you: not
at all comforting. 

Rolling back progress
like a red carpet, stagnating
society and staining
vulnerable consciousness… 

Children reared
at the bottom-of-the barrel
dead end, the shattering
of society,

cultural collapse.

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