THE SMARTS

 

It’s a photo real life; it comes complete with inner meat shame & an 

 

afterlife of hospital glimmer.

 

The gimmick is to make it feel like you’re removing.

 

So then, the 

 

pub life made good by the hill by so and so; 

 

such and such

 

sucking scum in through a straw out through the nose

on the edge of the forest

 

you’re on. 

 

Sleep dissolves cold bombs of magic gore. Snoring synapses stop and glare 

 

we demand more                                

 

and more stacks up

 

You hand stand in candy to

 

shake up the frills 

 

powders fight the frozen radiator angst 

 

while daily discord mounts to a crescendo. 

 

What the words mean and why they are

 

comes heavy in blows 

 

great dynastic plumes of dust pick up to greet them

 

Apathy is a gong we all chime 

 

and laughing, make the cut.