phalse proletariat prophet

out of hand delusions of grandeur
haunt my already distraught mind
like Bona-man under British child's bed.
oral fixation, stumbling tongue.
cross of silver oration.
a phalse proletariat prophet.

claiming the bourge will devour us all.
eat our life's savings on their silver platters.
buy their way into universities.
eventually buy office for a nickel and a vote.
rally to the call of:
we must rise up in arms
excrete on the platters of the bourge.

wetness that builds up in crotch.
trickling down pale thigh.
prospect of privileged overthrow
an orgasm to ovulation station.
flooding canals of crevices of body and brain.
influx of dopamine that explains
fanatical overthrow of bourge regime.

but it's locked inside my brain
and no one can see.
the foundations I seek
to crumble face destruction only in a
phalse proletariat prophet's perturbed dream.