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Versus Lord Dampnut. 

Virus mutated, disease grew,
finally here, hangry and horny,
so infectious and insatiable,
clawing away at our front door.

Now what do we do?

Learn to laugh at the expense
of neighbors we’ve now grown to hate:
sisters, brothers we never knew.

All over this
ceaseless stream
of steaming bullshit:

a circus of unqualified
elites around a ringleader
with a spinning head,

wheel still creaking
in endless circles inside,
despite the fact

that the mouse,
it’s fucking dead,

rising and falling
like a rag doll
stuck in tumble-dry low

as the divide
between the people grow,

sprouting cracks
branching out
to either side,
splitting every way,
even parallel…

This world we so haphazardly made,
it’s about to blow.  

Will I fight
or continue to hide?

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