room.

Sitting by the waiting line

while criminals are blindfolded

so as not to identify

who we are.

    

People are getting impatient.

Watching others through reluctant                             intercourses of cups of coffee.

Chemicals pumped in to keep us docile.

Uniformed attendants call the names

through constricted throats

some stand up

and others keep on pacing.

     

The criminals pass before us,

heads bent and wondering.

dead letters for living people

with the smile on.

She’s a war monger’s daughter,

a smile worth a million dollars

or a thousand lives, whichever you gots,

her breed is recognizable.

Corruptible god fearers walk the aisle hand in hand.

Those people are to blame…

I got my own faults,

I admit, but in the end,

it’s all capitalism,

thems the cards we bought.

They took my dreams away.

They take everyone’s dreams here,

clean them, censor them, and put them back

before anyone realizes they’re gone.

Were living in the moments between purchases.

Most of us have already been bought.

Sitting in the America Mall,

drinking coffee with whip cream through a straw,

explaining the prophecy of a manifest destiny

colliding with a free market buy out

is no way to pass the day.

         

She’s coming for another pass, the smile,

her daddy, the general,

bought her a new toy.

The scent of another third world nation being decimated.

dead letters for living people