oh how this has turned              into sandbox games   with the boys and girls       you little fans            with your online shrines          your special societies          your paens sung each night         off-key and thick with your flimsy juices     dribble  from your stubbled chins           down fair tattooed necks        as you jerk each other off       to the works of dead poets   whom you wished you could be or  fuck     or have respect you       while   notching each word  they have written      on your bedposts ….        i watch      as you dream to hang       their skins       stuffed and perfect       in the corners of your rooms     to gaze upon and fondle            in the night…

we watch       as you go  to all    and any ends    kissing the garment’s hems          while reaching        to squeeze and steal the shadow    and spirit         of your dead heroes     prying open tombs   with tools of deception and lies       tombs best left         sealed with honor    you walk to the ends of the earth   shamelessly………‘stealing the body rags of jesus’, he said        nailing it perfectly…

you, with your most        special       revered collections    smear your art skillfully  night after night       tuck scraps of pertinent information away on your altars    unholy shrines that you     each and every one    pull out to impress  each other with      fawning over      and worshiping these golden nuggets    nightly in your         arty       little rooms       while you stroke  and read     read and stroke    blissfully gnawing on each and every word   i watch as  you desecrate the memory          

you          the              fan a tics            

  listing your        collections    

 for

big

bucks

then

calling it

love