Common Sense Drinks Alone

Common Sense

downs another shot

at the end of the bar.

He has been at it

for an hour or so,

and things out there

are starting to get fuzzy.

Now reality

comes in bits and waves,

an optical illusion,

made palatable

by carefully spun lies.

Corporate paltering

selling plasticine promises

of old age sex

and face paralyzing

beauty cream.

Another shot down,

the future looks

Dali-esque,

eyeballs hardening,

funhouse mirror reflects

aberations of the past.

Grabbing the bottle,

four fingers down,

and everything dims,

intentional vivisepulture,

fresh food for the worms.

Common Sense

found puking

behind the dumpster

in the alley,

while the Tea Party looks

for its Mad Hatter,

sitting on their hands

for the revolution to come.

Wiping his mouth,

bellicose bantering

from would be jingoists

fill his ears with

Pavlovian responses

to real world issues

manufactured by the

Fair and Balanced.

and tasting stale vomit,

Common Sense goes home.