The Opiate, Summer Vol. 18
City of Palls Thomas Wells From dense sleep we emerge. Realizing our coat, we seek to cast off this Nessus. We drank the Jonestown Kool-Aid and now it’s too late. We never noticed the circling vultures despotic descent on the capital. We never contested the contagion, the invective infections of the tyrant. Everywhere we witness the carnage, the flyblown bodies we covered, the reeking pestilence of our infiltrated discourse, the spewing sewers of vituperation. While all the sinkholes break open our dual justice system a slapstick, our public coffers are looted, our privatized schools divested. Trauma’s children seek asylum in cages. Trauma’s vigilantes terrorize our borders. This is the moribund city of rot. This is the counterfeit city of lies. This is our cloaked city casted by an infantile overlord. This is our tomb city of palls.
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