Circa the Present Moment

Somewhere in Corporate America,
In the internet opium dens,
Someone is saying it, right now,
"At least I haven't murdered someone"

As President Coca Cola finally sighs,
A pause from posing the stark, clean, opposite of what is;
He's that part of me I don't particularly like:
Afraid of gettin' whacked.

The devil has all the best advocates,
They litter the internet chat rooms
To blacken every white, and whiten every black,
To help me release my confusion

Into the apathy of looking within,
Away from the agendas of windswept tarts,
The gifts worn like Western outlaw holsters,
The funhouse infinite mirror: the real world.