Wake Up

White absorbent cotton, repels
 blood-stained truth.
As conscious thought is left,
to dangle off the serrated edge,
of projected guilt.

Punch drunk existence calms
 the wearer,  who stumbles over stockpiles of lies and deterrants shredded into facetiae for lockdown entertainment 
Anal probe stuffs silence  with
 its $600 applicator due to expire
upon dependence 

Soon, you will bow to the blonde
 bimbo without cleavege,  who
rocks the world with her
 monotoned confidence.
Spitting her fascist bukkaki laced
rhetoric over the fish eyed lens
of those addicted to her bullshit