All is down the rabid hole.
Like me - go
Bloated heads swim through crocodile tears
to drought facts and fan fears;
hacking circular paths for a cock/ass race
that no one wins but Koch.
The Pantsuit Queen is sane enough,
but breeds scandals like White House rabbits.
Years of questionable habits
wiki-leaking like Russian rain.
While the Mad Hater with the wild March Hair
dares us to do our worst.
Where there's bigger walls, there's smaller hearts -
he's a whiny little . . . curse.
Is there no haven from this writhing mess?
Time is punishing us all, I guess.
I'm tired of all this riddling
and fiddling while we burn.
I can't eat this shit and call it cake.
I don't like the smell; I don't like the taste.
This is the dumbest party ever.
God, won't we ever learn?