My ol’ drinking buddies…

the object
of course
is to get you sucked in through
the
blow-out

they bind your arms
spit in your
belly button
sizzle your eyelashes
with
matches

we were your
friends
you see
but you didn’t act
right

we don’t need you
you’re done
for
don’t you
know?
any last
words?

no.

they bring in their cannon
it is the size of a flea’s
asshole

we’ll try to see that Linda is not too
saddened

they
fire.