Crisis Nightmare

Endangered Seniors…

How gauze-like
the yellowed reflection
staring back from shattered temper-enhanced mirror,
defying decayed adhesive,
like grandpa clinging to grandma,

refusing to accept the dry erosion

 of once anchored purpose.

Millennials…

Gaze deeply into their circumvented sanctuary,
a somewhat delusional place

 where discarded disappointment finds reality
glaring back with reminders

they’re not immune to the threat.

The Government…

Open-mouthed gluttony grins patiently,
its fantasy feast now a Bear Market
threatening once meaty bones into mere table scraps
dropping willingly to appease bottom feeders,
worrying not to satiate.

Protestors…

Retch forth shrill words,
pleading to be more than just pawns in free fall,
finding air peppered with virus
infecting every race, color, creed, and age,

begging relief to be heard,
to correct and slow the crisis,
hopefully creating epiphanies
to be heard, read and embraced.

Conscience…

Everyone’s involuntary inner voice shouts back at consciousness
daring to ride triumphantly atop the resonant failure of—

Empty words…

Seductively entering the gaping mouths,
continuing a downward vortex,
sending shivers of mal-nourishment to
the gullible abyss of failure,
where one’s attention
unknowingly abides,
understands,
and smiles,

along with the Liar in Chief.