Passed off as litany, the printed mint rinsed off to syncope
A symphony unto sinkholes, some shit decreed as jpegs of “it me”
Punishment for crimes that befit me, objects as people as distinct entities
It doesn’t matter for any thing to cede, all matter fused into single being

Alienation is highly relatable, gotta say, uncanny resemblance unmistakable
Initiate a data cull, start with baseline of how relatable it is to inflate a skull
Null hypothesis sliding scalable, capitalism so late that freights of schemes form spates so erasable
You and I, forever unbreakable, pliant, placated, down this tapered hole until we learn to play our role

Hard sell/Hard pass

We are approaching
Realms of ether
With unjust speed
Tetherless arrows
Responses recalled
Via previous responses
To the original
Which was lost
To faulty ignition

More actionable metrics
For spawning
More actionable metrics
Harvested ethically
From skin voltage
Of consenting blastomeres
So there is an alibi
For cheese flavoured rope caulk


It screams unfinished, but they call it work in progress
Clogged crests, called contest, for tests to attest some but flog rest
Bare claw grips on the maws of the oil pressed cogs’ wrest
Call old bogs fresh after promises of fresh swamps seem hard gets

Strands of rebar stick out, planned wings debarred, rote deep scars
Leaky roof so see stars, be warned of dreams that seep the weeping leaps to sleep starved
Steep curve of learning, peep brick bars to sneak past the future wring, squeeze, carve
Gates guarding gut lined with gunny bags marked books oozing with a sheep corpse tarred

It fosters its own barter, just announce us as the on-site sponsor
Guaranteed jobs offered after the dollar conjures offshore yonder
Cement them, bolster preponderance of garnished wages via 50 sorts of cancer
When schooled, trickle down response of “potential squandered” as double entendre

What does it say?

It was in exchange for pencils for the school
Or maybe for a tractor for the farmers
Was it to put phone towers on a graveyard?
Might as well have been put there by aliens

From a rust factory for discounted prices
Held together by the last quarries of sinew
A bountiful harvest of ballistic thorns
Wrapped as rosary beads around this important post

Upright trees marked as deadwood
Lead from the paint leached into the soil
For all the pulp razed and pulverized into gloss
All that remains is a peculiar rorschach blot