The world is full of fuck, just itching for an erection-
taking our loins by storm.
A child wonders at their father
‘Does everyone feel this disgusting?’
Pederasts reading scripture
beside chain smokers violently coughing into the obits.
Nervous murmurs of tepid thoughts
making their way with vacant stares
masked behind credit card blinders.
Looming palms edge the highway as manicured street-lamps
where mounds of earth dot the landscape
like ancient crypts of the sun.
Rusted chain-link fence surrounding Fortune 500￼s
The richer they are the cheaper they feel,
I can’t wait to put in my resume.
Junky preaching the glory days of smack on the corner of 52 south,
nervously chewing his fingers, then
hungrily lapping at the blood spilling from their wounds
as the sky’s anger subsides into a quiet winter’s grey.
Old world religions clinging to remember when’s,
Kurt Cobain wannabe’s, and everyone’s a veteran
on veterans’ day.
Middle-aged speakers hang in a large ventricular sky,
resembling old television sets quietly reserved for seniors on geriatric night
who descend further into the back with low, sullen eyes
unable to carry a suspecting truth
which has left them
fermented and sallow
broken on nostalgia-
cackling accusations of events forever burned into their hearts.