Mistakes. The bloodied path. That we all choose to take.
Naively unaware. Of the scheme that has been concocted to terrify.
Games you always lose. Pathetically.
Pick a number. Any number.
Just pick the number I choose.
I might just let you keep all your fingers.
Glitches. Piercing lights. That blind. That burn.
Holes in our eyes. Holes destined to be filled with manure.
Red crosses stamped on bare skin.
Underneath our protection.
Frequent fashion changes. Intolerable.
Wilde deserves a gold star.
Immobile targets. Eventually to be assassinated.
Important people are assassinated.
You are unimportant.
Philosophies. Written on gold scripts.
Beautiful calligraphy. Precise flicks and curves.
To be sold. Flogged to the highest bidder.
That bidder with the smug expression.
Adultery seeping out of his pores.
With the unlit cigar held delicately in his fingers.
Tapping it occasionally. Into the ash tray.
Poised on my head.
I polished his shoes.
And you paid for them.
with your mistakes
he has gained
a deserved place
where you have left