I put on the headphones
To drown out
the news,
I have an
information addiction
That I need
to feed.
I want to
get drunk
On useless
detail
To hear
byzantine factoids
About
Byzantium
To clutter
up my brain
With the
intricacies
Of the build
up to
The American
civil war.
There’s no such
thing
As enough of
this stuff.
I want to
find out
More and
more and more.
Because it’s
done now
It can’t be undone
And I hope
that
This
knowledge might
Make me numb
To the
numbers
Coming up
everyday
On the radio
or the computer feed
Forty-four,
or seventy-three, or thirty-one
Have died
today
So, I use
history to hide
From
everyday’s genocide.
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