brush hair back against the grain:
we search for light
which comes by twisted
angle arms;
childhood playback rewind rewind—
quick quick, switch it up!
until the fuzz black
becomes fuzz white
becomes crackle, crackle, stereo babble.
even then they eat merrily without us;
they do not see
our eyes have turned
to stone, they do not know
when we taste salt on our lips—
we are princes of future promise:
our doubt lies in our salvation
(and vice versa).
stomachs fall like raindrops
in our guts;
we puke them out:
food is useless here,
where the fallen lie in,
stuck to the roofs
of their mouths, fake teeth
rot around them.
we wash our ear-lobes with
fear, beg the hyssop
leaves to make us clean.
let us rub our bellies well to
symbolize such wicked hunger.
do not help--
we shall make great signs!
we shall do great things!
they will know us by our loneliness,
by our consumerism.
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