Filter - Ian Mccausland

Swallowing pills without water isn’t as cool as I thought,
Dumb bliss, engorging everything, replacing question marks
It feels like feeling nothing, and you can feel nothing so bad.
passion atrophied somewhere between the TV remote and the national anthem
I don’t want to be anyone; identity is soluble in advertising noise
It must have disintegrated sometime between going to the doctor and watching movie previews.
I can’t find it, and it doesn’t really seem to matter.
Spiritual reveries torn through a filter of stars and stripes
I’m bearing witness to the lobotomy of my city on fox news
Lynched in the womb, nothing much new
it’s always been this way