Youth drifts towards the fire
Searing red hot heat hiccup farts
Filled to the brim of one another's stenches
The girl who said she hated neon green
Now wears
Neon green shoes
We are all hypocrites in the end
Nothing touches truer
Then a man who dies thankfully
As a brewer
Truth is a made up word
There is no truth
There is only
The act of the man behind the desk behind the shades behind the cubicle wall behind the pencil behind the pen behind the novel and the short story and the muscle tee and the audition that went well and the audition that went poorly and the sight of a man when their mother calls or doesn't call to tell them that their father is dead with no hint of sadness in her voice, she is more annoyed by her rose bushes which wilt in the un-sinking southern heat
Tonight
As the jackolope jack-offs roam the street for another skirt to chase
And the skirts float with the will of this summer wind
As the genie vendors hock their wares to freshmen too dumb to even care
And the liquor loser ******* on fast food restaurants and their walls
Tonight
These are the beings we dare to call human
Tonight
Daddy and mommy are sleeping and dreaming of a better future
As up-scale glitter demons girate parts they didn't even know they had
And bench pressing brothers continue on with their sadistic born again others
Tonight
I dare not dream
For fear of discovering
Myself
Without time