THE HOO RAH MAYOR OF SELFIE TOWN

congratufuckinlations, sir
you are the hoo rah mayor of selfie town
you have become so damn good
at taking the spotlight
and cramming it up
your own asshole
you are your own personalized
votive candle
complete with holy sticker of yerself
plastered on the side

your wick is burning

no one gives a shit

and when the long day is done
when you retire from the soured limelight
to your king-sized bed
you snuggle up nice and tight
beside yourself
big spoon little spoon
you coddle with the one you
love most dearly
and when the lights turn out
you continue
your vicious ritual
of stroking your own
ego

masturbational
congregational
congregation of one
you are your own moon
you are your own sun
but there is not
a single star in your sky
you light the void
like a bonfire
in a garbage dump

you taste your own death
on the tip
of your own sucker

you strap soup cans to your mouth
and ears
wired together entangled
entranced together
and you claim to hear god

the world sleeps in
lost in a raw dream
of static and painful love
absent of kings and jesters
and kings and jesters

write down your legacy
and use it to cushion your coffin

hoo rah mayor of selfie town
la dee da king of the fun house mirror
drown in the alphabet soup of yer name
show strangers the pictures of yourself in yer wallet

have fun on the thin road
that leads to a thinner road
that leads to a thinner road still

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2015

Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

5 thoughts on “THE HOO RAH MAYOR OF SELFIE TOWN”

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