Obviously, neither is you, passing twenty involved attempts,
thrown from that hell I reluctantly dare refer to as a mouth,
which is of course quite easy once you stop even listening,
yet absently, you always neglect that there’s cross traffic,
sprawled wide above a manhole to be helplessly feasted upon by street fiends.
See, that formidable bloody chalice which you dip your greasy fingers in,
can be honestly lifted from about any cheap shop peddling imported wares,
along with its shaggy book of mostly hilarious incantations in litter box script,
read down over our unruly crowd thoughtlessly fracturing every pious syllable,
thus flinging our brown fat in their fryer to be basely poured onto fresh-cut vegetables.
Ha, there goes your luscious costly paint job with our viral rusty nail,
nearly nine months heaved into the outhouse after two wretched days,
its valuable ransom violently rejected since you’ll pay with decades,
also that huge unique wedding cake now freely adorning a sidewalk,
where not one crumb remains that our nasty dogs haven’t gotten around to extorting.
Yeah, tear up them stakes and run all the way to some kindness of strangers,
force below as many mint juleps as you can and douse a jot behind those ears,
brave that seething heat clinging to their atmosphere of charbroiled ignorance,
spew a ghostly mist of holy libation to interlope with their corrosive humidity,
what they can’t discern of prophecy will eventually become your absolute bestial consorts.
Whoa, how generous for one such as you to create this supreme sacrifice,
bestowed on us ingrates who are clearly unworthy of one’s charitable honor,
just pathetically shriveled baby back pork ribs normally forsaken by flies,
although you did take your estimable time to butcher and divide us animals,
must be again a severe mistake on our part that we could possibly entertain any importance.