is the way that the world
fell to its knees when they came
to take the brains
of the children who punched
through the lampshades
of pills and sugar
wild worldly master of technological
filth unorganized yet so organic
the ear the slave to the sound?
or is it the other way around?
who pens the monologues that
expand through time and space?
i say. what did you get from it all?
did you come out the other side
feeling clean? feeling holy? did i
stamp upon your soul some sacred
orgasm of thought? i cannot say
first impressions are important.
COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2016