The slanted tropes
are propped up against
the whipping
post
as young lives are sacrificed
to the memes.
The atmosphere is a protective
shield
over your dreams, over your nightmares,
it keeps you together, the spirit
and the idea.
It keeps you moving
in a visceral dance of physical experience,
deception.
Any given thought in any given moment
is scripted by the malevolence
of the soul drivers, movement
through the chute,
another broadcast cell.
No optimism, no negativity, only
the laughter.
The applause rains gently, soft pillow
tucks in and unconsciousness remains
pliant.