Treasure Island

A.j. Binash

(04-20-1988 / Dodgeville WI)

Addicted to The Bling


There's a competition for oxygen displayed in a cloud of dandruff.
Huffed and
Puffed. By circumstantial air patterns.
As a crowd of teenagers holds its breath. A young blonde
Goes purple. When Hobo Lou sees a polluted sky on her
Huffed and
Puffed, mouth pillows.
He lulls to the crowd
Through the gaps in his smile:
“My friends! ”
We hear an organ
Click,
As it collides with rotting enamel.
“My friends,
You are nuanced from chemical intake.
Killing knowledge by manipulating the senses
Into omnipotent ideas about cynicism and skepticism.”
Then.
Silence.
The teenagers dance.
Their pupils growing to the size
Of full ticks.
We begin to ridicule our sanity.
Confusing the illustrious taste of Chanel perfume
As a sign of luxury. Such gregarious objects
Tease vision, by scenting pixels with seductive pheromones.
(There's a teenage addict scribbling away in their journal)
'O
Billboard
O
Rx Prescription
O
Checking account.
I thank thee
By inviting thee
To become capital.'
Again,
Hobo Lou awakens.
He wipes spittle off his beard and says:
“Marx watched the peasants getting arrested.
Because they collected twigs to heat their homes
From the bourgeois' private property.”
Hobo Lou
Coughs into a closed fist. Air shoots like a cannon
Through the gaps in his smile.
“The end result.” He says. “Was the smog we now breathe today.”
Then. Silence. Followed by a riotous applause.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 23, 2014

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Topic(s): revenge

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