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