If Any Sense Is Attempted To Be Made Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

It makes little sense,
If any sense is attempted to be made...
Becomes yet another thing to be censored.
Or authorized to be regulated by those who fear,
This process of thinking independently...
Has found a way to prove with a doing,
To reveal to others as if undercover and smuggled...
That a continued snacking on delusions has proven...
To be worse than smoking two joints of crack,
Back to back.

'Are your findings scientific? '

And a kept munching on a daily dose of fantasies,
Will begin to horrify the ones whose minds...
Accepting to believe truth is an infectious disease,
With such symptoms to affect...
One's inability to acknowledge how having good credit,
Effects the depth of debt one seeks and gets.

'How dare you attack my shopping habits.'

Yes!
Truth can be brutal and will upset,
Those doing their best not to get infected.
Or become suspect of betraying delusion by dissecting it,
With too close of an interest that may offend the authorities.

'Are you ignoring me?
Are you?
You are. I can tell.'

Yes!
Truth can be brutal and will upset,
Those doing their best not to get infected.
Or become suspect of betraying delusion by dissecting it,
With too close of an interest that may offend the authorities.
And then there are others...
Snooping just to sniff around to get a cheap high!
Caring less who they pester.

'Are you ignoring me?
Are you?
You are. I can tell.'