Basically
I'm the
disease

your
poor heart
could not

pump,
process,
or purify

the
tasteless
something
in the water

waste drains
exit into your water

Put you in duress,
the deviant disaster,
the master depravity,
the agender **** toy,
smiling sodomite

offered only carnal
distress for your innocence,
trash for your
sacred naivete


(but I'm not wrong . am i // am i .)

This tributary
Happy accident
Shyness
Flagrance
Deeply inspected

This notorious
Dearth, designed my life
So why
Not write
Why not paint pictures?

The donor with the ink
The spread recipient
Left and stayed

The ink that he left fades
The fade that he left stains
She made the mistake of
Looking for love as an anchor

Two lovers' worth or lack alike
Fabricate their draft designs
I'm incomplete, a mess
Two lovers' worth or lack alike
Fabricate their draft designs
A complete mess

Best if I reverse design
and I publicize
notorious dearth as proper opulence

I have a gold tooled chiseled mind of David marble;
pure white interior and a godly glow of smoothness;
that tumbles in lush lands of opulence, openness, and
awareness

Opulence is a whisper
In a forest full
Of clouds
Subtlety is a shout
In this city
Of waning light

Smothered in jewels
And chains of gold
The life most desired
By the inferior

Glamor and money
Become the dream
But the real dreamers
Think beyond the image

The chains reflect the rays of sunshine
Gaining the attention
But blinding the way

They hang heavy
Constraining each move

The outside voices
Control the opinions
And the money
Hides the truth

Red wine spills
You should know
It stains

When the lights eventually grow dim
The inferior become the superior
Left with true opulence
Or a lack of

I hope you're satisfied

Mountebanks and madmen
And marvelous maidens
Populate and pollute politics
Which joss sticks cannot chase
Or alleviate the electorate
In its counter clockwise swirl
Down its own bathroom drain.
Only morals don’t ameliorate
It only exacerbates, enervates
Rather than eliminates the pain.

The pain is felt by franklins,
Never the nobles or magnates;
They go on and make play dates
With other multi-billionaires
In debonair pied-a-terre lofts
And scoff at the peasantry
While exchanging pleasantries
Over gold-laced desserts
Thinking nobody gets hurt
If they pilfer and pillage
Far off village and town
Tearing down and razing,
With life grazing scorched earth.

To the rich, nobody has worth;
Voices that implore are muted
And garbage-chuted in the press.
Nothing to confess, the smile;
A mile of porcelainized teeth
Made more intense by pretense
That importance is impotence
In the face of extreme wealth
When stealth cease efficacy
And delicacy isn’t required.
The moral judge is fired.
A new wife is squired
In hopes a son is sired
To take over the empire.

Absolute magnificences
Held in richly woven garments
Arrayed in opulently fine linen
Washed in the light of ages
Adorned with sliver and gold
And they look upon you