Take those words, twist them and deliver to the highest bidder.
Shuffle and wring your brain for the accuracy of conniving the receiver with recurring disillusionment of what is and where it’s supposed to be.
Not here? Maybe there. Beside him. Above them.
The particles of truth — divided to conquer the fear of general reporting that is too vague to dull the senses.
The army of ants that scamper about the fields of weed and crop — in search of tools to build a fortress.
A state-of-the-art manifestation of the infectious web that no pollutant can destroy.
But, thinking minds have perished under the strain of the clicks and shits that penetrate every cell — that tries to regenerate the literary triumph of the yesteryears.
When it costs too much to amass the exercise of conjugating the truth of the matter and the facts as they appear — naked and numb.