A Malfunction

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It isn’t morning yet
and I can smell the thick air,
the biochemical warfare
sweeping in, across the Atlantic.
Even the air is stale.
The crackers are beginning to see
we’re way past our expiration date. 

Adding gizmos like limbs.
Privilege has always inspired new growth,
however cancerous to the rest of society it may be.
The abundance dripping down his chin,
the pit regurgitated, sticky, rolling down
his chin, his shirt, and dribbling to the table
like his sack scalped and glossy marbles
slimy sloppy marbles rolling out of the bag
goes squish in my hand.

But they have an app for that too,
there for impotency and eunuchs alike!

 I’d prefer the virtual to the real.
less messy, easier to handle.
Shoot, he’s even nice enough to leave it
in the bedside table when he’s off to work.
That’s when I really get my fun.


They’ve got an app for me too.
I haven’t seen him in three days,
at least I don’t think so,
but these pictures move too much.
I’ve watched him die,
I see him dying,
a malfunction

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