The stench of menthol cigarettes follows
And some disguise cloaked into syllables.
And the air walks past a detonating fountain.
Chlorine blends with burnt tobacco and cyanide.
Reflections pretend the windows are mirrors
Finding solace among the brined fingerprints
Dissolved on the glass.
Water screams a placating howl.
And the air reminds them
That all fingerprints are unique.
But in the end we came from a vigorous dust
That pulled the universe in like a rape victim.
Doesn’t the Grotesque demonstrate something vital:
Snow descending through smoke.
A sad blonde drugged and fucked by the President.
All afternoon fingerprints reach into bags
Purchased from vending machines.
Plastic crinkles remind glucose
Of its motive to dictate mood-swings.
Thus profiling existentialism
As a poem written about death
By Dylan Thomas.
So, to choke on plastic
A reminder of existence
Scrolls across cellphone screens
Like a CNN news ticker.
We’re all thinking that new forms of communication
Are reminders of progress…
But what happened to the clarity of suicide?