Last-Minute Lies

vexed with wires and curled up like snakes

we all without aim stumbled and staggered

through the craters and pools

that were oh so characteristic

of the landscape on which

we to our surprise discovered facial features.

once I was given a bottle filled with sparkling anxiety.

it did not quench my thirst.

it became an unbecoming addiction.

(and in an

abbreviated manner one could say that in

accordance to tradition we exhibit our

addictions in the display window to

affront possible bypassers and to arouse

aggression and inertia.)

someone cast himself into self-portrayal vainly

hoping the result would accentuate the featurelessness of his face

disappointed he swam in the low-budget luxuries that devour

with omnivorous appetite would you lie for me I had a rusty nail

hammered through my temple and I'm not sure if

what I felt was pain let me introduce you to my friend the pain in-exile

let me spray you with last-minute lies the screens oh so cleverly designed to banish

boredom brought reports of an accident in the shooting gallery if

I were a killer you would not have lived to know at the ends of one's arms

there are instruments of destruction confusingly similar to hands the imperative

of the evening is sever would you die for me would you spy for me thank you

I've had enough now let me evaporate and join a less tedious cloud the delicacies

that scorched the palate and made the tongue swell

fresh from the machinery of the filth-factory:

a malfunctioning device: COGITO.

upon seeing it one shrieks,

with jealousy intoxicated

and with the almost

theatrical obscenery appalled-angered.

the crumbling the crumpling the collapsing

mild and sour and misplaced

as were the cherub's smiles.

pornography has brought us

where technology couldn't.