Under A Lipstick Sky Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Under a lipstick sky
we drove our plastic toys
to the end of resistance.
Screaming vowels of rebellion
as if being loud meant
we were correct.
Cars rust in the backyard.
Cars rust in the front.
Technology on parade.
I would gladly understand
any garbage you wanted me to eat.
But I cannot do so.
I will not do so.
Instead I'll undo my zipper,
haul out the 6 inch snake
and piss all over you
.