the dour-doored long haul of bureaucracy
blinking fluorescently in its complicity
to seep away all of last comma em
period first (please print clearly)
dusty little lively-hooded you
sliced into file folders with precision
naming of thee conventionalities
splaying you digitally, rigidly,
alone and cold in the dark oh my
winding and whining your way
through the twisties and roundabouts
of cemented impetuosity and
paved hesitancies clutching
and resisting among the poisonous
residue of possibilities worn
(pot-holed even)
and tiring, oh the weariness,
not nearly debating before the jangling
heraldry of the next ensnarement
of no just really this is just an innocent
piece of meat hanging, swaying,
its not really a problem
or a mortuary with a good sound system
nope no traps here and that scent
is not the imposing intimidation
of imminent intimacies with
iconoclastic ideologues a go go
(ay caramba)
it's just a holiday and you’re just
doing your best with what you’ve
been given skulls and bones and all
the eyeballs melting away
no, no, just kidding,
it’s fine
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2 comments:
Ah, the American Dream. Your cubbie is just behind the third window on the right, yes? God save us from full employment.
But what fodder for this exquisite rave.
All I know is working a Halloween Friday is no fun. :-d
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