Aahhh the crushing ends of postmodernism
the impermeable coffee filter
selling jacked post existentialism
with innocuous novel filler
on the doorstep of Burroughs
or Joyce and Sartre
eyebrows furrowed
and chin resting in hand
looking for lost art
and coming up with grains of sand
in the boring blasts of a mind trapped in plaster cast
with solecism to guide the trembling hand
and wrinkled ****  vulgarity
language is the dullest knife
I have ever cut myself with