We came, we saw, we died.

I was, I am, I won’t be.

I like my empires failing
It reminds me of me.

Me – my world is on fire.
How about yours?

That depends on what your definition of “is” is.

“Is” is all that “is not” is not.
Haters gonna say “is” is now Photoshopped.

After all, the world’s staged;
We are merely crisis actors in a play

Who can’t breathe inside the .PSD
And no one can hear you scream

Our country is going to hell

In these weeks when decades happen
And winners lose and losers win and

We must love one another or we must die.

Well, let the suicide doors up;
I will be the last in my family line.

There’s no future like no future.
There’s no present like no presence.

Who is even whom in the Middle-West?

Jimmy Hoffa’s middle name was “Riddle”
But don’t act like the answer was missing

Outside of society / if you were looking / that’s where you would have found me

Like the obit’s what-dun-it.
Though I’m still doing fine

I took my multivitamin with red wine;
Here’s to feeling good all of the time!

But if you are drinking just to forget
You won’t remember it, so get lit

Like a flag

Like a Fireball

A Kamikaze

A Molotov cocktail

An Irish Car Bomb

Some shooters –

If you can’t tell, I’m not really a social drinker;
I’m really a socialist, and a drinker

Addicted to Paynekillers:
What have you got for me?

Any democratic parties?
Though I can’t stand attending:

They are only unanimous in their hate for me…

Can you love the public
If you hate the people?

Can there be a social contract
Without social contact?

And I welcome their hatred –

I just wanna feel liberated, I know, I know.

But my list of toxic people to avoid
Reads like I’m from Chernobyl.

A thousand flowers wilt – I suppose I must be:
Look at the way everything I’ve ever touched

Disintegrates around me.