Snort the kaleidoscope, and
chalk it up to a lesser version
of systematic misuse.
Just smoke the damn cigarette, darling;
nobody wants to hear about your daddy issues.
Imbibe the poison, and
select a delusion to foster;
we’re a generation without God, so
we all grew up in fatherless homes.
Saturate the addendum
in nuclear ambrosia, and
barricade the enclosure.
You’re a page full of ellipses
in a book about closure, and
I still remember the way we fucked
fucked each other over.
We’ve bolstered our immunities
to the precipice of disbelief;
and you look at me with malice and seethe
as I write, “dear Alice,
Wonderland ain’t all it’s cracked up
We’re all just drinking and smoking and pretending
as we await
an apocalypse of endings;
but I’ve got a front row
to the gun show, and
I could use a