Masturbating World Creators
abandoned needles dance in deserted
playgrounds during the crepuscular
hours of dawn; seagulls soar over
parks, hoping for crumbs of food
from hotdogs ordered by fat men in
suits and skinny women in no clothes; amber
alerts ring up on
the television every ten minutes, every minute
someone’s going missing, most never to
return; flaming meadows visited by
knights in dark hoodies and the dolled-up
princesses remain forever imprisoned in
charcoal towers; ships made out of matchsticks arrive
in ports built from bricks of cocaine, the sailors
eat the
ports before they dive back into the
waters infested by carnivorous dolphins; dreams fall
from the black clouds, like poisonous rain scorching
fields and killing cattle; nightmares emerge out of
the planet’s core freezing peregrinating corpses into
monumental statues of a lost age; exhausted from
the same old dances, masturbating gods swill
absinthe and reform the world in accordance to
their wildest fantasies.
Horror Sleaze Trash 