Misery Index

These images of the television heads spouting promises that disappear in
days
move and shift as we cross the Styx (and the carnival slips out of town)
Past ideas never did us anything- the rolling stone of progress
Flattened us
we move and shift as the Rubicon laps at the fast of the masses that never
return.
You quench your thirst with ashes
you plant your seeds in send
and watch as weeds devour...
You pride these institutions that glorify disease
one thousand knives have stabbed the backs of those you have deceived
you can't get there from here
the beaten path's a dead end road
burning bridges coming down again