Drip, drip, drip your precious praises,
salivating admiration
like drool, dribbling down your chins.  Laugh
on cue, ooh on cue, boo on cue,
think on cue.  Prodding cattle was
never quite this easy.  What do
you have to offer anyone
except the same mindless fodder
you were weaned on?  I might as well
try falling in love with a tree
for all the comfort its shadow
gives me and for all its harvests
of scrumptiousness.  But you would look
at me as though I were a fool
if I told you I loved a tree,
and lock me in asylums with the
wackos that think they see Elvis
playing checkers with Jesus in
a plate of ravioli.  But
I am not so crazy, it is
I who am saner than you.  It
is I who see the values that
you cherish are as valuable
as the paper you print them on.
It is I who know that you are
all that is wrong with this world, and
At the same time all it cannot
Live on without you failing there.