thank god
bukowski is dead.
that hunter
kissed a shotgun.
thank god
they didn’t have
to meander through
this online world
and suffer the fools
so smitten
with themselves
puking trash
then parading it about
in a mockery of art.
we are all
a bunch of
goddamned hacks
mimicking creativity
in spastic bursts
of static.
swimming in sewage
sheep in shark suits
espousing on
esoteric nothings
while rome burns.
thank fuck
maya fled this cage
freed to sing
at the joy of flight
rather than
choking on the
pollution
the electronic discharge
of plastic poets.
i envy the oven
the empty bottles
the butts in
the overflowing ashtrays
the whores
the horses
the mountains
of drugs.
thank god
hank is dead
and never had to
play to the
electronic masses.
it would have
fucking killed him
like it did hunter.
no person
should have to
witness alone
the end of the world.
thank god
it will likely
be over soon.