August 7, 2014 by Wayne.
come sunday, i’ll know what to do
what do you mean?
the economic portents appeared equally gloomy
our transnationally orchestrated foreign investment
degenerating into the selfishness of the rich
or some pre-modern conception of post-scarcity utopia
democratic and demilitarised
the humanised technology and social order
fuck all that, i
do not give a fuck
a choir of i don’t know whatever,
our constructs of –
time, individual growth’s mewling offspring
love, sometimes yellow loveless
beyond that, into the compound impulses
left, right, our patriotism
is the best of religions, and its
work of destruction must continue
life, go blow up somewhere fucking else
you’re not even trying
what’s the fucking point, really
all the lines on canvasses of the mind
0s and 1s into the mouth, out
contests of intellectual prowess
watching girls in striped sweaters
across aging streets,
always the same stench
of youth drawing the eye
all others pale-ing from view
saying: you could live through me
your tongue flicking against me
fingers through hair dark or
a mocking white
grasp at the root while you fuck me
panting mouth open
cialis to keep it hard
and so on, until it ends
there are greener pastures there.
i want to earn money to help my family.
… is a Good country.