Wednesday, 13 April 2016

Bitter Transactions

“Big Heads” by Pablo Picasso (1969)

Catching cabs to catch your muse in their affair
Only to be greeted without explanation but rather some vacant expressions bearing accusation
That you, “our friend” are the intruder instead
Don't kill the atmosphere!
You’re insane in the face
An amateur on the job
When you crawl into this cubby house, there will be no children or their laughter thereof
Or any signs of humanity, actually
Stand on the urge of sitting down
Review a question mark as the light conceals half your face, there's a harsh blue all over 
And the paint on it's choking with dusk

There's some toxic overtones of deviancy, explicitly so
A pussy purrs from under the bed where their springs had sprung
Too quick
You will die of hydration and you will die
In huge sums of dust
You will die of superfluous causes
But never deprivation
In this chase of infidelity finish you will with a groan...
Suddenly, a cockroach flirts with your foot
Bright antennas brushing against the bare skin
A desire is bore of the bearing said fabric

The infliction of chaos is a kind of narcissism 
On the floorboard
You stare at no one in particular
To say the least
On cue of a soft crunch
Someone’s suffering is put asleep
So at ease is your soul
That now you shall exit too
Find the door with a graceful grin
Your business card's pretty impressive as it lands on the table from the grip of palms
Soaking, and to be soaked in more repellant