She ***** on a milkshake through a metal straw. Strawberry.
The place, Tom's on Western, is bare. Ash falls outside. It's
sticking to the glass windows. Glass and steel frames
and white paint and white chairs and ash outside.
A taxi cab goes up over the curb. A black woman in a headdress
gets out and tosses money, red money, blood money.
I'm here too sitting by the bathroom, noting the length
of Strawberry Milkshake's boy shorts. Is this objectification
or object reduction or reverse personification?
The siren in the distance winds down, sounds like it's melting.
Do sounds melt? She, Strawberry Milkshake, doesn't
seem bothered by what's going on outside. I want to sink
my teeth into her shoulder. Ash sticks to the glass, and a
kid, eight or nine, runs by, newspaper up over his head.
He's crying. I can see this, but I don't hear this. Water
starts leaking then pouring then falling in sheets. Ceiling
tile and insulation float at my feet. Strawberry Milkshake
pulls her wet hair back into a ponytail. I clear my throat.
She raises her *******. I walk over and tell her
there's this song she reminds me of. And a bomb hits just
down the street. There goes the glass, crashing all around
us, slicing past forearms and skipping through empty space.
The steel frames bend. She puts her hand to my face. My
face becomes her face, her hand my hand. She and I half-hum, half-sing
"Oh Destructo, you're so destructive. You're so destructive to me."

Rap game is a glass ceiling,
Shucky ducky quack quack,
Lame ***** reeling,
Over oldies and throwbacks.
Imitating vaudevillians,
Because originality has flattened,
Such simpletons,
More useless than pions,
Lacking the accuracy,
Of a destructo-disc thrown by Krillin.
Tacky ducks more quack than Daffy.
Quirky queens more dunce than Daphne.
The mystery is in the ink that separates,
The Shaggy’s from the prodigies.
Could stab a friend in the back,
For snacks like ******.
Not much of a strategy.
It’s like your trying to intentionally,
Upset a Wookie.
Maybe your just tone deaf,
Like Eminem referencing the dougie,
Or make dad jokes more horrific than Chucky.
Get it?
Because chucky is a horror movie?
Why aren’t you laughing?

Rap game is a glass ceiling,
Shucky ducky quack quack,
Lame ***** reeling,
Over oldies and throwbacks.
Ll cool j don’t call it a comeback,
Slavery of the masses,
Taking Prozac,
To combat malpractice,
Depression a felon inside and outside,
Laws becoming lawless and unbalanced,
Innocents committing suicide,
Because the powerful are careless,
These ******* should be embarrassed,
That their privileged ***,
Can fake smiles enough to win Emmy’s
Minds material madness.
Gotta mind your true enemy.
Instead of being consumed by fadness.
Losing ones humanity,
To become the next Ken or Barbie.
But you too bad and boujee,
A hollow shell stuck in comatose,
Consumed by the sea,
Set up to fall like dominos,
Thinking you free,
But can’t see,
As the crows grow,
Bundled in circles,
As your drowning,
In asbestos,
For every pro there are cons that lurk in the shadows.