You can barely hear the dial-tone that hums through the wires of your brain. It is the call of drones, buzzing as they fly on their secret missions known only to those who man the remote controls, striking the keys to send unmanned Hawks, Ravens, and Shadows deep into Pakistan, Yemen, Syria, and Somalia. We have absolute confidence in our sources. Our President is in command, making the hard decisions. Later he falls asleep to the monotone hum in the back of his mind, while P

Untied, tied, bound, gagged squirming and groaning forced to piss ourselves duct-taped and superglued shut. U.S., the U.S., the 'us', the us versus the them them invaders with funny long names they dare to stand and speak and act black latino asian women maybe gay not 'us'. not our U. S. A. Divide and conquer ourselves waiting in the dark for an exquisite apocalypse in the dark where critics disappear where rape happens beatings dishonor, then eventually -- light. light is in