just another day

I’m done with the fraud
and patriarchal sexual society playpens.
Crisscrossed through a cake baking
and stumbled upon starved homeless uniting
and ran with their hunger strike.

Go past the oak tree that’s south of the death pit
next to the gourmet coffee shop.

An image pimped out and slapped on cola cans,
sprinkled on doughnuts and filled with cherry jizz.

Bring a dowry to me,
the main man,
as I clutch my personality switch.

Bring me my slippers.
They should be brand-new
and located in aisle twenty-six
of the mega-super-store
where fingerless kids know
no hump-day or drinks after 5 p.m.
on Friday.

I’m glad I know about the drinks on Friday.
It’s the only thing that gets me past the kids.