the clattering
metallic hiss
of the cymbals
as the low rumble
bassline builds
chillscascadingdown
myslouchingspine
tracing the
curvatureofhersmile
inelectricpurple
illuminating
thedustycorners
ofinspiration

citiesare burning
asmissiles fly
childrenlay dead

all because
the president
raped children
and got in
the pockets of
equally evil
shitstains who
are close enough
to death the idea
of armageddon
holds no worry

tyrants without
morality
no limit to
how far they
will go to
satiate their
sick desires
who have operated
so brazenly they
have no concept
of repercussions

andscreamingdoes
nothing

so it is music
and daydreaming
becauseiambreaking
when reality
touches me with
its tainted talons
and exsanguinating
the entirety of
the so called elite
is the only other
optimal option