Flip them off, all of them, to satisfy yourself

if nothing else, young master is defiant and unafraid

shivering in the moonlight sweater

weather daunting, shivering tremors

regret and disabuse, saying “never again”

again, knowing it to be a lie

this time as last, you will eat from a trough

like a pig, choking on cackles of spite

superiority and mimicry, the tools in your satchel

slipping away, to look for the truth.

 

About you or the condition of the world

fun will be a construct, someday once I find it

raised on a pedestal, skeletally still for one

momentary lapse in judgement, repeated ad nausea

until it makes you sick, a second person

figment of the imagination, you are an unreal

reeling rod, listen for the sinker drop

that never comes, though,

until you’ve already missed it

in the flood of sugary syrup.