Look at that newspaper —
ha, I meant that
newsfeed —
it does not matter. All that’s left
is to choose the soundtrack
to the future, and it’s
“Meet the new boss…
same as the old boss…”
When I tilt a windmill
at my battered guitar,
when I make a joyful
dissonance of the noise-news,
I change nothing
but I can tolerate the horror
of knowing what is coming
a little better when
my ears join my heart
in bleeding.
Dark Matter 
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