the word has spread, his followers must carry all his shit.

Insults, hating, baiting, grating, all the way to killing.

Of course, the orchestrator finds the whole reaction thrilling.

While poor Mel, in her own hell, has been told to take a rest.

Four years of pretend caring passed the test. She did ‘be best.’

And, as his sycophants get sick and pay huge hotel fees,

his plans for twenty-four will bring the country to its knees.

D.C. will once again be filled with armed militia boys,

with bear spray and AR-15’s, by far their favorite toys.

To vote, you’ll have to have a note signed by the Lord of Tallies.

And large fines will be levied upon those who miss his rallies.

No mail-in, write-in, wrong-side votes allowed in certain states.

Q will return and endorse all the proper candidates.

Of course, the first thing struck down will be limits on his terms.

It’s rich, it’s kitsch, but he’s the big fish. We are just his worms.