Aperture

as I am driving sideways down a slippery mine field you sink your warped teeth into words that sound like the cawing of dead ideas from the aperture of a fresh flute hole hitting octaves of neon and concrete I want to buy because I have nothing to sell leaving the soul to the side-lay-away-creation as an afterthought witnessing the new crust form around the lips of tired old platitudes the shock sets in the realization makes for embarrassing dark silhouettes around the groin region I am moving through the words that compel me to buy/be/show/expound who the person inside the pupa is... the gods have had their time the vampires had their time the religious zealots have had too much time and time is precious here when we're talking about the state of things maybe there are too many drunks thugs drugs mugs slugs blogs and bugs to differentiate between who is helping and who is helping themselves to another full platter ... should the buffet line become a chaotic mess and the chicken-fried steak fly about in the manerisms of ufo's grab the shield of apathy and run like the dead with somewhere to go