by William Skink

52 weeks to flatten our verve
then shift all the goalposts
and meaning of words

after the fear bombs and mesmerize claws
seized our cognition 
and flipped all the laws

now you hold what they put in your brain
not pausing to wonder
if they are insane

just hideaway, isolate, so terrorist hugs
cannot threaten these
sociopath thugs

who vaguely recall the feeling of love
enough to despise it
and want it expunged

the gauntlet is here, the question is posed
will you mentally stitch
the emperor's clothes?

and eagerly build your security cage
where you can audition 
for America's Top Slave?

or will you instead choose to wake up
using consciousness 
to brim over your cup?

the time-stop is close, and some animals know
a reboot is coming...
go high, or go low