a fun time can be had in the city

mind the bodiless heads at the entrance

their faces are still and forever pretty

you and this next one may share a resemblence

shout through the street but the echo will be

the curious silence of untold events

and their creator

the children would tell you but they can't speak nor see

take their loose eyeballs in your pants,

for later

run from your shadow, the sun's setting soon

your fear of the dark is almost theistic

some thing on the sea shines in light of the moon

a trained adventurer is opportunistic

open that crate and behold your boon

the contained human dolls are so realistic

you may climb to the valley but the descent is steep

there the partyhouse is filled to the brim

here lie the parents, not awake nor asleep

tie them together for their bodies are thin

down the sea over yonder and into the deep

see them drown and wonder, why had they no skin?

a fly on the water comes to pose a conundrum

if your face were another would you feel any different?

then all insects fall dead to beat of a drum

the wet blows are approaching and becoming vociferant

another face is growing over your own now, how fun

the next mouth utters sweetly the cry of an infant

that new shadow is rising and appears quite unhinged

take a last look around through the piercing exchange

your organs itch and burn, what was in that syringe?

the streets now are empty but damp, red and strange

"Do you possibly want to be pressed like an orange?

it might be a new thing to do for a change."

The light is gone now, you supposed no return

but the eyes in your pocket had a different opinion

through your mashed up remains in the poisonous urn

they roll to the entrance to find a new minion

while you used to have two now you have about fifty

the eyes, that is, presently sit at one level

inside those heads on sticks at the entrance, how nifty

looking forward to fun times with the next poor devil

28.12.22