I have heard of the land
Where feet don't parch
But thoughts roam free
Spreading like a poisonous vapor
Where the minds await with taut anticipation
And a malignant paranoic, narcistic rage and dementia
In fragmented smooth shards
Cloying the air with a tasteless appeal
In a veneer of carefully calculated machismo.
With such a boisterous atmosphere,
Is it a wonder there is a rainbow,
Of traversing thoughts borderline infantilization
Riddling earnestly en masse a doubtless mind?