Nothing Else Is The Real Thing

Drinking from a textbook
Full of fake wine
Gulping to dissolve that anechoic mind
With echoes stretching off the pages
I designate imaginary / real
Using children's tears as anesthetic
We dissect the rhetoric
Still the self, commodified
Is severed from our feelings
We want them back
This spectacle
This history
Is re-written to please
Everybody laughs now

We're audience to mystery of disconnected history
We're audience to tragedy of disconnected majesty