Crooked teeth, yes

     but a finger-puppet's face
     leaves no bite-mark, trace

Shiny wrenches, swung
by hands on sirens, sung
A heinous intent here
has   began..

      ..begin?

Begun.


Shovel in hand--
            the torso will go   there

   the head,  over here..

won't that be a hoot?

Mom won't carry the evil
that you gladly,  choose to wear
(still.. your little, yellow Volkswagen
is so ****** fucken cute)

You're an addict, Ted
nothing more.
Your self- celebration,
nothing but a dead-end street.

        Stay sweet.