A twist in the guts, a shift in the tide,
there are cartons of eggs getting broken worldwide.   
I’m not sleeping and neither are you.
Boo-hoo.
In fear, in fear, the stars are spread,
they shine in isolate rings of dread,
and should the heavens get too tight
they’ll hiss and disengage their light.

Were we helpless? Were we blind?
Were we out of our fucking minds?
Should we have got that booster shot
from the screaming man in the parking lot?
And is he among us, the Father of Lies,
his presence announced by a buzzing of flies,
with all of his reptile retinue?
America, nice knowing you.

Oligarchs be gentle, oligarchs be nice,
oligarchs don’t make us say it twice.
The smoke descends, the options narrow,
this is a moment seeking its tarot,
its Devil, its Hanged Man, its Ten of Swords.
Can you tell the tale? Do you have the words?
Come on, give me the pill, Jill,
and we’ll roll unconscious down the hill.

Maintained in this state of wild vexation
by volleys of planetary radiation—
what if a genie replaced your phone
with the club of somebody’s tibia bone?
Love alone is the medicine for asshole-ism,
Love the elixir that settles the schism,
Love the securest biodefense.
O keep us together, Love. Make us make sense.