a witness to expectations wilted
weathering under hot sun delays
the faces of lilies pining for some real shit.
except, what is real shit anyway?
we all live this interpretation colored
with conceits,
we paper together our meaningless messiah.
we want answers to prayers but can't listen.
to real shit??
we want bread
buttered our own way.
multiple masters of ceremonies moan lament kick sand,
we adolesce our supposed intellect.
a black sunshine, pushing through. our
screens we push back butt-hurt. a screaming
inconvenience spills scalding privilege
all over the fucking utopia place. pissing on the rug we
yank(ee) out from under our feet
shod with too many shoes.
we have first world problems too.
we aren't post-anything. signs say yield
to oncoming traffic. there's a horn blowing.
who's paying attention?
rules for this road ain't none.
flippant when this bitch flips
the clown car over. what do we see
in the mirror?
some objects are a lot closer than they appear.
we are drunkards for our own supposed intellect.
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