Tuesday, 1 December 2015

Celebrations for the Unworthy

Force-feed the frightened a Ferrero Rocher
Felines fighting
Over the grass burning on the other side
I’m always running from successful people
Whose shadows cast shade scary enough to make you blink obsessively
A beaten eyelash rolls around the eyeball
Dry as the desert air the eye is underpaid for what it does for us
We are spoken about without our even knowing it, yet there are consequences about
Backstabbing that the dead wish they could rise again, to warn us of

But while they converse 
We walk away from the lawn that fringe their outskirts
The land underneath our shoes that swallow the ones like us
Never a reunion today
How does the human flesh disappear overtime and on its own or are we consumed by bugs

Is that what it means to be dead

To cool off while the body itself becomes the host for a good feasting

Which part of me would be the tastiest
And which would be the entrée
Would they shove lemons or oranges inside my ribcage
What seasoning would they marinate me in before they preheat the soil for a royal slurpee
Hence, most importantly, how many mouths would capitalize on such a nursing
How compassionate is it and how selfless to participate in this ordeal
That we hadn’t a say
In the first place
No one wants to die in the first place, so remind more often for loved ones will die soon
So they might start loving you back

How cowardly is the move from the brat that neglected the duty of invitation to the event

We haven’t wishes for you but curses shoved
Into plastic bags
The declaration that intimate ties no longer exist
In the freedom secure the deeds around your wrist to pronounce your new identities
Finally we are freed as well, from the burden of forging difference

The world wishes it were smaller to contain itself
Inside your eyes as you shrug your shoulders by default
And read on buses and trains to impress who

We can never trust a friend who we suspect thinks they are better than us

The spotlight is ready and at your disposal, so use wisely the projection that readily 
Implies embarrassment

Never shy away from conflict
If necessary
The last day of the month is such a drainer to get through
Thank god for siblings 

They’ll probably always be our enemies
We should be paid by the hour for fighting in the family feud
My sister has only one dimple and fights on our side
Of no man's land
Fakeness is the armor of choice and drama is the ammunition aplenty  

Whereas, cologne is not the greatest gift for those especially sensitive to the suggestion
That they stink is what sprays, when they test the fragrance, for the first time

Who gives a shit anyway

At least it comes in gold and looks precious enough  

Along the purchase of white chocolate
Behind bars
Diabetes is the treat that they will still enforce a tax on
And such is the secret recipe for the success of the feast
In the future you will be seated as the head