“It’s getting dark” and I’m like “duh”
but silently to myself, because the shit is obvious
to those in my headworld, that the sky is falling
used to be our favorite
kid’s story, now is turning satirical, but where the fuck
does the red river flow?
Narcissism skin is thin and gauzy, silverfish slithery
nasty and scary, or so I’ve been told, by picture book legend’s
purported depictions of fact held by some with a sickness
inherited along lines you stood in when you were
younger than you are now, sometimes fatal but I had a serum
synthesized in my basement, where I grew from Rock Lords
to Masturbation Fantasies, games of poker
petty crime and blood on the stairwell, meditating stationary
through a copper fog, unaffected stillness.