Ten thousand little
fragments of Orwell
coruscate around
us all like mayflies
with silenced pistols,
mayflies shooting us
all in the head with
little hollow points
that carve through our brain
exploding away
the chunks of our self
that don’t conform to
ten thousand little
Newspeak lexicons
the damn little bugs
want us all to talk.
They quickly die but
they’re quickly replaced
by a new damn hatch.
These are the new days
when a cage of rats
strapped onto your face
is sweet nostalgia.
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