65. I Taste Consumers Lodged In The Esophogus Of Collective Us

by alias queen

I taste consumers
lodged in the esophogus
of collective us,
vomit slicks ensue,
urging the children
to remark
"mommy, look at all
the pretty colours"
just as a vagrant
dog smells and then
subsequently
urinates in our
energy reserves
as confidently
as an oil CEO
announcing
4th quarter earnings
at a news conference
followed by
terminally ill
journalists
vomiting
questions all
over the front
of the oily
man dress
followed by a
sense of dissapointment
when the consumers
learn that they
could have paid
to witness it.

The puddles turn
into lakes, the
past participle of
urbanization, and
dilute our reserves
until the nation
faints, the collective bloodless
drain another victim dry.


hellicane category: political