Bored to the Core

Off the space shuttle, Charlie

He’s got the balls to say to me

Like i’m not knee deep in terra firma as it is.

And my name’s not Charlie.
But that’s how they do you.

It’s a shell game.

A master of the universe spiel

That divides and conquers.
What are they afraid of?

Unity?

Coherence?

Reason?
“If A then B therefore C

Right?

Or not always…”

And it’s that last part
That “or not always…”

That gets them, bores

Down to the cores

Of their fat, full bellies.

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