Rim Shot

i’m your little sick trick
the punchline of your joke
fill me with the falsehood
that I guide my own destiny
while you pull the strings
you yank the ropes
tighten the noose –
how freely you offer
your pretentious gift of free will
that comes at so high a price
as you make me dance
for your entertainment
for your cherubs to laugh
at the jester in your throne room
telling jokes
and falling down
while you grab
at your bouncing, chuckling belly
tell me of my value
with your pretty, lying words
i’m like a penny on the ground
worth something
but worth not enough
for the trouble of bending over –
love is a fucking joke
and we both know it
dangle it from a stick before my nose
like a rotted dirty carrot
watch me fumble for it stupidly
as you laugh and laugh
and laugh some more
then snatch it away
like a demented clown
at a naive child’s birthday party
the grinning clown
who snatches away the coin
before his eyes
your sick sick party trick
your children tell lies
along with you
their hypocritical noses
pompously tickling the clouds
with Colgate smiles
glaring in the sun
eyes gleaming
with doped-up self-righteousness
as they chortle from their throats
like bloated toads –
but I dream of your death
and theirs
oh what violent thoughts
you give me –
I do not dream of brighter days
I dream of blood
I dream of screams
I dream of the death of the lie
for without your lies
you are nothing
just as nothing
as I

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