Election Year Feels 2
America,
you self-destructive ass
The stage is empty
and the flags are limp The corners collect confetti
Outside in the street there are probably protestors
but the sounds are empty and static - breaking overhead
the sound of all the balloons popping
America, tell me what the concrete is for if not grinding faces to pulp
Skin mixing with spit and cum
Is this how you like it? I'm not so sure - there is a hesitance behind your eyes
a sort of "if not now, then when?" hovering in the periphery of yourself
Like a windless parachute you unopen and fill
with yourself
and fill with everything else too
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