A ghostfaced boy, silent like a good movie,
floating on spider-silk tripwires through a wax minefield:
Smile :: pig knuckles
Grimace :: milk-teeth
Smile :: surreptitious self
Grimace :: karma kills a beetle.
Feedback loops replace pacifiers until we're no better than the may-flies choking the faux-tel pool.
I hot-box my skull until my drunkmath brain bleeds serotonin.
I chase tired whodunits through 50 years of 50's cinema just to hide under my tongue the same pills that were illegal last year.
The blackened factories will take commissions for any snuff film just to keep the coffers full of monopoly money:
"Don't listen; all peasants want is to build huts and wait for them to be burnt down."
A ghostfaced boy, silent like a good movie,
dog-paddling through the lagoon of human sewage with both Van Goghs intact and a cosmetics mirror clenched in his teeth.
Diving for the x-rayed bones of ex-presidents and cavemen.
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