When a meme persists for an indefinite period, when the joke becomes a social identity, a creed, a prayer for cruelty and civil war,
for guns and rope and mass deportations, for the undoing of democratic power, when the joke dances in tuned hatred with the dear leader,
when the two minutes hate is eating the cats and dogs, when the cult is born and the joke is gone.
I saw two spiders were under the stars two silver coins flipped and their spins reversed, silky moonlight pouring in from the ruined heart
A tangled web of rage from the start will always reduce to a house of cards.
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