We are ghosts in our machines, zombies that wander misbegotten neighborhoods. While cadavers decorate our front pages, political vultures feast heartily on the putrefying victims of headline poisoning.

The choicest meats of our petrified republic are hung to ripen on the hooks of baseless, self-serving accusation while the iron-jawed butcher of liberty trims the fat from a new generation tender and preserved by the gentle ionizing bath of tube radiation.

Thus wallowing in the brackish canals of disinformation and distraction, chained to meaningless, polluting and dangerous occupations, effectively divorced from everything and everyone, including our own selves, most are driven by nothing but unfulfilled, nameless hunger.

What seeds are nourished by the waters of shame?