I chalked telepathic progressing teaching fields in concrete gardens
to farm dead calls of road picketers by the stumbled railway voices
so far from realistic waste art that a bashing tumor brings
a cheap city back blood bath radioactive, old and shared.
The future drunk reasons for tired souls tied across landlines
where crows sit along and starve
have become tattooed landmarks
staring down at the loss of humanity wishing for a break in the brainwashing.
Dunn becomes the wires, a fence following drawings
underneath seasons with insane phone trees against the streets with light torches
paired in threes of fleeting sacrificial dream keys for your jeweled casket rings
when you become used for enemy funding while elites blow streets of civilian children
& multimillion slaves go about their days as if nothing is happening.
If I had everything on your wall, I'd be just as stupid and shallow
as the mop bucket of your Mexican maid laid between cracks of pavilion seats
in raunchy downtown peep theaters that matches your fake tan and veneered smile
for secluded stolen states of genocidal rein filling up my pocket notebook
of all the ignorance that I see everyday.
Shared and old, radioactive blood bath
back city cheap tumor brings bashing waste art
so far from stumbled railway voices of road picketers
to farm dead calls teaching fields in concrete gardens
chalked in telepathic progress.
