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.