Transcription
Massacre Massage
Milligrams, sizes, speed limits
Muscles, motors, electricity
Pretty, pretty, my isn't all this pretty
Says the announcer clutching Kleenex
During commercial breaks weeping
I've damaged my heart and should seek a doctor
But dying doesn't demand avoidance
When my whole world is strangers
A rose hangs upside-down colored
in Crayola. The ghosts here hang
from necks. In corners. Painted
Bob Barker orange, mumbling: "It's over."
A woman with hands, clasped in silent prayer
The light falls perfect on Sassooned brown hair
Purple shirt brightened with Clorox
Background stands love seat upholstered lavishly
Living in ink and postage stamps
Living for ink photographs
Taken of pretty people paid
Sellers of smile. Bigtime business
Building imaginary happiness
Eyes perceive as ear discern deceiving
Sight this century our downfall
Sound digital. Smiles hysterical
Pantene Pro-Veed into presidency
Michelle Obama
And the First Lady
Barack: - "God this. Jesus that."
AT-15 Ultra High Capacity Magazine
Booed at. As deadlier, stealtheir
Unmanned drones cheeres at
What's prettier? Dead Whites or Blacks? (Forgive me)
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