is it time for a new one again
a hen in a cupboard
to be let out in the summer months
like crutches supporting dead weight
and no escape plan
like Alcatraz when its heated
war cries have been depleted
and all enemies have at last
been defeated
what a glorious day
in our kingdom
the favorites of a god
that laughs at
baby deaths
when the mothers are whores
with nasty esteedee spores
like the shores had farted blood
on a muscle milk inflated stud
drinking coffee
with the morning far from sight
and reading a New York Times
special edition that’s even more boring
than masturbating out of spite.