Sloganophobia:

if it does not mean
the fear of 
modern culture,

it should. 

I killed
my idols, my darlings,
my television 
hoping to get away from it.
I ate the rich. I seized
the day. I chose life
and believed in change
and looked to
the shining city on the hill
in the national morning,

and all I have now
are thin T-shirts full of block print,
their melodious words rocks
on a knotted up
tongue —

and really,
I mean it
when I say
that is all 
I have.

Too easily lulled
into belief
that happiness comes
from the coatings within

I suck down
bone fat and gristle
trying to get past hungry
(but I don’t feel less hungry)

Sucking down
single malt nerve tonic
just to get some peace
(still I feel little peace)

Sucking magic from screens
and music from dessicated air
trying to learn something
(feel no smarter)

Trying to pull in
what I most want
I become a vacuum
for what I least need

In this sunset
of national satisfaction
the perfect consumers
all starve with their bellies full