Buttermilk

We are all dying

Metal vultures circle overhead

spitting shrapnel

at our weakened bodies

We are all dead

Metal flies case our bodies

recording shambling bones

for the coroner overlords

Our biggest mistake

was seeing freedom

through the cracks of their padding

when it was just a terrorist

draped in stripes

the entire time

The greatest threat

to us

does not wear a turban

nor does he live in our phone signals

He wears a suit

and resides in a mansion

paid for with your taxes

When we realize this

the dead shall rise

from their tinfoil coffins

brandishing hearts

wielding neurons

while skies clear

of our magnetic nightmares

and the airwaves will play

cellos and flutes

instead of our thoughts

And in this moment

we will be reborn