𝗗𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗬 𝗟𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗥𝗬 ᵖʳᵒˢᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵒᵉᵗʳʸ

on golden afternoons

the demagogues and puppeteers- the ones that rest comfortably on a sapped cortex-
vigorously preach of embellished constants;
so poetic in their exaggerations and yet the body is under the brain's command;
what else can it do but silently comply with those extravagant gospels?
the stomach tightens and the lather gathers on the palms like perspiration before the storm,
the mind glimpses at visions of viciousness as the eyes see but physical images are unable to perceive;
answers are soon to be delivered -a sentence of doom- of that the masters of cerebrum are sure!
alas, those rotten preachers of mind are fearmongering liars quietened by actuality's fire until their voices find a way back to their throats.
so, by fortune of fine stock, all turned out good on that brittle golden afternoon.