conceptua
* once you're conceptual, the game is over
with propaganda duly infused, orientation complete.
you no longer need prompting or watching,
all your assurances are as if inbred
& you’re a tool now, an ad - billboard on two feet walking
talking all that jazz you were taught
before you thought about the source, er - secret sauce served by the bosses
with the plated foodstuffs stewed in the great american melting pot.
like a live frog dropped into tepid water
where the heat's so gradually increased it scarcely notices that it's boiling &
no longer consciously living, but where its soul resides now, is cool; though the frog’s decidedly not - anymore.
& your patrons will soon let you know you're not cool, either; if that still matters - anymore.
* 12/21 - lebuc - conceptua
