it’s plain stupid
it’s blue ‘till it’s dark and too late
you might wanna
look her up on facebook or youtube
there’s plenty of her over there
hours and hours of ravishing meatloaves
hammering frantically
she's tearing herself apart like an overdosed octopus
everything on the outside
thin like a screen
open to everybody 24 h
always ready to be digested through the sickest organ
ever invented
the organ that feeds us with hunger
and then spit out with a yelp,
through another crazed organ of ours:
“bull’s eye,
o captain my captain, I’m through!”
slow paced metamorphosis
slow enough for us to enjoy
the benefits of being marginally humane
the last second stretching for hours and hours
the count-down slowing down
a timeclot of insanity
a short recess of destiny, just long enough for us to laugh
about the prospect of one day hatching into something else
unrecognizable and yet not too much different from what
we already are;
and her white ribbons, her red hot lips
her transparent clothes and her transparent sex,
cling to your retina
like a promise
that can be neither made
nor kept.