Dicks with dick-shaped weapons
pointed at each other in a silly
display of hidden inadequacies.
Zero trust between insignificant
members of the same species born
from identical molecules and matter,
yet the first instincts of a troubled
evolution control their timid minds.
Withhold prayer for the human race,
for no button shall ever be pressed.
Here I am again
knocking at your door.
Broken by the horrors
of my one-day war.
So wrap me in your arms,
and tell me it’s alright.
Darkness is surrounding
and I don’t wanna fight.
So show me the way,
Mother Midnight’s shelter,
dawn of the new day.
Set free from tight constraints
set upon their broken homes,
they drift from speck to speck
like fractions of devious dust.
Ponder my life I must do now,
for freedom such as their own
shall never be known again.
Take bets on when this wrinkled monstrosity
will drop dead and leave us all alone for once.
Put me down for a trifecta in case the next three
days don’t work out like that strange lady with
the crystal ball and large feet had predicted.
Standing with his hand up his ass and the other
gripping the remote like a dumb son of a bitch,
he flips through every channel ten times over
as if expecting the scores to change in one second,
pouting like a little boy without pacifier when
someone questions his sanity or takes the
clicker from his hand to save all humanity.
Good lord I can’t wait till this bastard drops dead.
Wandering aimless in the woods to the north,
I stumbled upon the floating forlorn fairies.
Squishing their leader with an accidental stomp,
I apologize to the remaining few who laugh with joy.
Bewildered by their bashing buffoonery so bold,
I inquire to their sanity and substance and soul.
Rearranging the corpse with a twig from the forest floor
they shout in unison with fingers pointed, “there is his soul!”
And as I vomit the violence away I see the substance
of their mockings floating to the heavens above,
snickering gouls giggling at my expense as their
once grand leader ascends to nowhere in particular.