Oh wait, you forgot to plug in the “nobody cares.”
They didn’t betray anybody; they just came through for your opposite.
One guy died and was brought back to life when they played his fav song,
Badly tick-covered, like a Life Saver in the mulch,
A guy in a box and myself dusted off down to our cuffs.
The cameras were all secure up in the trees — weird surveillance.
What are you up to?
I saw you in Mongolia
and remembered someone I offended.
A lot of people have the same name,
but that was her name; the same
OB/GYN
It’s racist to do sand divination, iron out time in an amygdaloid
Even if they’re all in your head. “My job is not to talk,”
Says a skeleton to some followers in the dust.
They found a cow in the basement
up to its neck in old newspaper.
He’s going to make a full recovery,
ovaries were shot though.
It was all rain, gays, and spring rolls (the occasional stairs too).
Any of them could have been Michael Stipe if they had any inclination.
It’s how cowboy gentlemen know how to but don’t play the accordion.
What happened to all the glass slippers?
All the little black girls at midnight turn to prison shivs.
People used to wear palm leaves,
unisex skirts with nothing in imagination, ditch dead.
We’re going all in on the exhaust pipes,
resigning themselves to brown on one end
like mediocre cigarettes.
Other people bet on the telephones poles,
The squid tasted better after the bombs,
With a hint of the first patented fertilizer.
Stop complaining! Ghosts are the real paparazzi,
And they wonder what you did to eat silkworms every day.
You could get into those tiny sandwiches,
Or lift tons of metal, get into physics,
Collect candy dispensers while considering
How to get a steak knife through your chest.