Culture gives what it feels you deserve/ in the cul-de-sac of your time and place.

The useless circuits of the dead

I guess at the end you’re only looking forward. Or upward actually, since you can only lie there on your back looking upward, straight ahead toward infinity, your mouth in a grimace, with the ghostly pink lips peeled back from the teeth.

Someone is filtering her news feeds. They know what she likes, because she’s a real Reality TV slut. She’s missing all the dirt on Obama and ISIS, and the collapse of the Greek economy. All she keeps getting are the latest feeds from the Bache

Wasn’t that you Giving me the finger Or was it just A dead ringer For the finger of love? Finger of love Finger of love Did you find someone’s dog do On your doorstep last night Something didn’t smell right In the middle of the night

the swarthy terror network

There’s an army of legs in the pit, with fires burning at both sides of the horizon, swept aside from the center like curtains. A painting of bright red water with orange rain falling through the blackened air, standing on the plain in the center,

still have the yellow rose that I did not throw into the grave.