Dance, little monster
Dance on that barrier that separates you from insanity
Lovely, don't fall, you wouldn't want to break your head
So your thoughts spill out on the dirty street
Paved with flies that never had a chance

Dear Queen of Past Requisites:
There you sit on your throne of severed toes
Biting your dirty fingernails
Awaiting your pride to return

Vinyl hearts that love the same
As platinum tin man ventricles fueled by oil
They don't beat
They tick

Drip.
Drip.

We teach our children how to set a time bomb
So that they will get up in the morning
And love with limited capacity
Robotically kiss us good-bye

We're raising ultraviolet radiation
The future of our children
Blinded by high-capacity carelessness
Rational facts that rule out innocence

Will it take a stampede of wild dreams
Over our high-maintenance five-year-old sleeves
Corseted imaginations
Piled high with ingrown wires?

Look, partial advocate
Theorize their thorn-covered feet
Rotting in your sleet-colored dreams
And allow your voice to run wild
Across their gazes