In the center of the center is a blip:
a gooey mess, an ideology, a notion possessed
the most rank of the rankest “stuff” there is.
A finger in the crust tangled in the plums (actually, burnt meringue)
pulls out the answer before the question posed;
outrage contrived, empathy sacrificed, sliced into bits before it draws flies.
Audacious, pesky, fact-checking flies!
The correct answer?
The best answer?
Come on, Man!
Ever get banned?
The Redditors are storming and
Hey, can I have whatever drugzzz you’re doing?
The sky is green, the grass is blue.
And that’s the most right answer there is.
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