Drone

Engorged on the fare of the worldwide slaughterhouse, garroted and left choking on a fast food high, have a maggot-casket to-go please. Numb to all but self-hate, a world full of self-deceivers. Once fearless, now only soulless, here to spread the addiction. Substance. Control. Power. Control. Substance. A damning litany, but marched in the streets nonetheless. Stalin would be proud.