Ah, Middle America, where depth's just a bluff,
A facade so thin, even QAnon's had enough.
Now almost gone, wrapped in a rant so grand,
You wouldn't buy it, even second-hand.
Flourishing? Ha! They've perfected the knack,
Of stumbling forward while looking back.
Colonial cosplay? Still their top gig,
And spiritual scams? Just a new-age jig.
Exporting culture with a side of fries,
Imperialism now in Target disguise.
Education's a meme you scroll right past,
With TikTok as teacher, who needs the class?
Medicine's a racket, no cure in stock,
But WebMD's gospel—who needs a doc?
With meth in one hand and Metformin in the other,
They're riding this high like there's no tomorrow, brother.
Oh, Middle America, your act's almost done,
Not flourishing—just surviving, under the gun.
At the end of the day, with a smirk and a shrug,
It's all just a hustle—but who's got the last mug?
YOU ARE READING
Dimensional Doodles
PuisiThis collection is a tapestry woven from the threads of cosmic wonder and digital intrigue, each poem a distinct journey through realms where intellect and imagination collide. Dive into a universe where quantum whispers mingle with the syntax of th...
