i
was at a party
but
all the men kept talking about
was
beer, boobs and ballgames
and
the fast and the furious movie chain
i
left, bereft of nothing
american
culture is a vulture
consummating
with corpses
cream
rises to the top
even
if it’s curdled
out
here on the streets
there
are no hurdles
just
a smooth sailing sidewalk
upon
which i walk
while
watching the illusion
of
a sky with no stars
thinking
how i would probably
have
been arrested
if
i had tried to smuggle books
into
that party
laurel
and hardy had
nothing
on the comedy
of
cosmic creases
where
nothing increases
the
wastefulness of what
we
think makes us relevant
till
all i can do
is
fake the flu
so
i don’t have to forage
on
the floors of your forest
whenever
anyone talks
all
i ever hear is how
i
would be better off
being
like them
but
all i see is a disconnected brain stem
broken
by the barriers
built
to barricade
any
challenge to cohesiveness
that’s
congealed into comfort
of
carnal cravings
even
claiming they are attaining
true
spirituality
quoting
chapter three
of
a culinary chicken soup
thinking
their truth
is
worth a dollar at a kissing booth
come
and sip the wealth of their lips
their
existence alone
is
what this world is worth
never
giving birth
to
the conception
that
the ultimate deception
is
the perception of their thoughts
because
no one is ever taught
that
neurons are necromancers
a
tease and denial dancer
who
will let you buy them drinks
so
you will think
that
with each shot you have a shot
at
fulfilling your desire
truth
does not make you a liar
if
the flames of your fire
do
not conspire
to
raise you higher
then
a heimlich designed to expel
the
morsel upon which you are choking
***
No comments:
Post a Comment