Ad Nauseam

Sunshine grows men on ropes Similar with metaphors and similes And cold plastic smiles. Slim, shiny, at first slimy, Then… Then mass produced body index Fat and hypertension deficit syndrome-o-matic. Failure due to faulty, underfunded, cheap union labor parts. Broken and glued taped back to the semi-flaccid meat bag’s parts Ad nauseam, But worth regurgitating for the sake of curiosity’s infinite lives. Will you spare a tired old man a dozen redbirds? All dead and empty. Ad nauseam. Entering ourselves head first, strong Into the green-blue gluttonous mausoleum nausoleum With fancy golden embryo. Embryo cold , with teeth chattering loose, Broken from gnawing the misconceived development Of a prenatal worm-child. The background was aforementioned “Thus”. Inter-missionary positions on all seeing eyed pyramids Connect myriads of the labyrinth. Run for cover before the light breaks the shadow fault line Of what is right and what is written Because I can’t bear to tell you what is wrong. Sunshine grows ropes on men different from the same old, same old. Mad at the world because like opinions and ideas and optimism And a general surety of a done deal. Nothing is relative to Uncle Certain. Just Aunt Be. Hollow minds can only feed hollow stomachs From the, “Why did they even come here?” Go back home to your party fanciful. If you think it’s you then why are you still here Under the tree that shades us from falling Birthmark razorblade sweet tarts. It all starts over and over.