Tuesday, 3 November 2015

Rush hour Scandal

Reservoir fiction where fluids collect
The stories of those, who fell for, and into
Mines of gold
Rescued by gold diggers
The trophies of anecdotes
For comedian flair and lets hope not, the harshness
Of disbelieving  

Warriors of anxiety
Trashing feelings with credit cards
Garbage collectors driving on
Neglecting garbage people
Duty done, without the dignity
Of human decency
Who even cares

Ghosts are only scary because they’re attention seekers
Like that girl in your classroom
Who tantrums whenever we starve her
The dose of applause
Upon which her survival depends
We build their brains from scratch
Like they did ours
With batches of bullshit

Glowing eyeballs trapped in ball machines
Stuck in between blue balls and gum to be chewed
There remains adequate glass
To draw seduction and therefore suction
From pockets of mothers
Pleading with sons to shut the hell up
On the phone:
Stop talking bullshit, you talking turd

More people waging war inside our heads





If so badly they struggle in difference





Let them be, to remain in sane
Or risk your own head falling onto the chopping board
Of mental questioning, maybe you are insane
Just like they wanted
Kill those people with anti-bacterial wipes
And the washing detergent lemon-scented in red bottles
Bought in bulk, by our mothers