This time, before the ink has dried
I shall have done the deed.
An encyclopaedia of anatomy next to
the bleeding bag, but this is not the
stanza for that, nor an objective
correlative, before the concrete
hardens. (Love is one of those
flowers that spits pollen in your
eye as you admire it, the way a dog
exposes the soft underbelly to his
human, an arbitrary award given
for patience). This flood of people,
it’s only a matter of hours now until
they buckle like a bicycle wheel
hitting a gutter.
Take a stand against every commandment
take a stand and then take a bow, sit
down, applaud the audience as they admire
you, for your wit, for your Darth Vader
Let us talk about irony and its
appropriation as an instrument of the
state, about Non-Marxist Socialism
and how the Old-Families, panicking,
quiver in their vast halls and cathedrals.
At dinner, whispers into gold-leaf cognac
‘How the sheeple have multiplied!
Let’s offer them some options, how about
genocide, voluntary euthanasia…we’ll
desensitize them with popular entertainment,
sterilize, sanitize, make them suck our dicks.
Or, how about this…we’ll trick them into
thinking they get a vote.