Unshielded

I was a bourgeois dude

hacking as a starving art collector,

the other way around

or something.

It would behoove me to be less weird:

less "sexually flame retardant"

less of a "cave man swatting at shadows"

less warped into normalcy

like a crushed plastic bottle

bent back to form

with milk-white cracks

where it proved resilient.

But everyone's got a deep-sea deception 
waiting to manifest,

one-upping one another's torture fantasies,

trapped in the neverending rectangles of colliding dioramas,

red-carpet walks through infamy's underpantsless volcanectomy,

ultraviolet-keyboard-roller-coaster-ride

through-cartoon-style-decapitation-and-return,

aquablue wolverines crawling out of the sky and Brahms in the air baby, please.

The speech is free, the meaning is pricey.

As our fear-filled future leaders

sling dicks and scrap it out

in chortle-heavy DC air,

Filet-o-Excess with Carbon Classic

and the balls of war make me

a better friend of pleasure,

ambition’s enemy.

Some unbeing ozone afternoons,

I throw the sourness away—find my way

of washing the silver

off of the miracle,

silencing flags,

colors loud

as the dictator’s bullhorn,

staking claim to invented trinities, infinities,

proud to be fodder for the legalese,

for eviscerated mysteries

unfolding like Times Square--

for policies you've never known,

crawling toward an everlasting...life

goes calmly

if you don't watch it unfold.

When my loves are invisible

I keep my eyes closed.