-mommy, why do actors die in movies?
-mommy, why can't we get a dog?
-mommy, why don't we go to church?
-mommy, where is daddy?
put a filter on it, kid-
don't you ever think before you speak?
offsetting guilt with off kilter remarks.
hold it tightly tilted at the guilded hilt.
severed and stilted and ever sarcastic,
the realtor of reality has been waiting
public static final to sell you your plastic.
so you exchange the plastic for some
copper, zinc, nickel, and some good
and you plastered the plastic to your platinum
platitude hiding platitude
platitude effacing sincerity
platitude masking an utter and desperate and ultimately sad
je ne sais quoi
je ne sais qui.
I don't know who I am,
says the pretentious WASP existentialist
the language of his soul.
I don't know who I am.
but that's ok.
put a filter on it, kid.
that's what it's for.
(whats the con in conforming?)
and you need not worry about rotting and curdling away,
in the time capsule incubator of