Isn't it just fitting that in your second sitting you looked around and found that that old white collar syndrome woke up to send you home. Drones buzzing your shoulder it couldn't get any colder but you still pretended to deny that Every UNveiled Eye was TELLing you that it's O-Ver. ('oh but that DavidMuir profile doesn't it SO beguile' you and your rank and file) Well sir it was over from jump street But you were so steeped In your muse's buzz that you went on dreaming 'I AM the New Order Judge' and so decreed to bleed the sheep with sweet delusions as they sleep. Whatever was not broken you 'fixed' ('and forget the rest, it's for the best') while across the room your dominatrix poured plastic water in everykids lunch as you signed a pensive pine 'don't touch the wine because that's all mine.' Now once again he clammered and thrashed about with his beat up hammer because the king isn't dead YET is he? And he needed to look busy as if it somehow mattered But you see, NOW do you see that the emperor and his coterie are all frizzee in suits threadbare but the sheep don't know don't care while their tin man band keeps bungling droll in newflung potholes where old soldiers used to march so proudly on greenlined streets to the heartbeats of countless kindred souls.... Dad fold up that flag it's just 'too old' but soon i'll join you out there in the cold * Epitaph * So we're back to where we started but the freshly departed will still feed from the same old treats of gangrenous meat served up on K Street by the brothers gore and their polihores galore. Brace for an obscene encore of postethnic epileptic grand mal seizures as the gods of futureborne leisures invent new mantoys for all the manboys that have lost or Never Had the key to the Best that Used to be. _________ 19-11-2014 (revised)
This was written in the vein of a rap lyric. I'm sure that it reads kind of awkward, but in my own mind most of it flowed very nicely when I was writing it. It's probably just that my brain is so strange compared to normal people.
