Not a game but
a puzzle stuck due to
pieces missing from
collective wisdom. Go
where the kids
went: an exorcism
in ether augmented
by dank apps.
Tell me of your
homeworld usually
I don’t react
to the weather
while it drags knuckles
along the esplanade.
Disembodied yellow eyes
flitter among the cairns
like mating damselflies.
A fair coterie
at the fair all tricked out
in chitin livery.
Lose your mind
& dance forever
across the shoals;
go where the poppies
grow from the skulls
of CFOs &
unemployed nurse
practitioners
alike. Hopping into
this body is no worse
than any other. Each stinks
in its own house.
Love gets used
to the smell
& it’s like it’s
not even there:
when you share
your socks,
the whole world
recoils with
reckless abandon.
Something
we can all agree
on:
you are less
interesting than the man
who has a talking
dog & a parakeet
who lights
his own cigars
while quoting reruns
of This Is Us.
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