1 — O! PEN

Dungeon mist,
poignant drift,
tectonics of meaning.
Simple and balanced,
conditional wound.

O! Pen,
my lightening rod,
splitting brain fog,
in emergence a sentence,
crawling for sinister worms,
for the categorically evil.

O! Pen,
you know who I’d like to slash open,
The Bad Chromosome Gang,
the insane thread running blue ribbon,
the select!

My inkless pen, scribble this hitherto eternity.
9’m the end.. of absolute nobodies,
doing everything to become nothing.

O! Pen, with a lick,
I kill the Wef and the Bilderberg.
And the psychopaths in the attic,
leading babbling idiots of Hollywood,
Wall Street, the Silicon Valley,
I jot to kill, I kill, I kill, I kill,
the Satan Incorporated.

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