VSEPR theory


they have said everything;
they have said
nothing.

our fascists of paper and ink

satellites of forsaken suns
whom only the foolish
burn among,

mistresses manhandled by
the very secrets they have raped
since the beginning of time;

the world means nothing more to us now
than when our bloodless
hearts were
entangled in the mesh
of their lyrical traps

they speak of their lives,
deaths, loved ones and loathed alike,
their fears of society,
bloated dreams,
demons with faces like angels,
anything to make themselves
at home
in the most destitute
slums of our minds

they shout their heinous thoughts,
brew their
fundamentalism
in our stained coffee pots,
sing their swan songs
of reflection
in broken mirrors

and we lap it up
as kittens do milk

and we suck it dry
as babies do breasts

they throw more wood on the inferno,
blanket our emotions with
the third-degree burns in their hearts,

choking us to death
with suicide,
self-destruction,
loss of faith

they suffer the injustice
of our gods,
our nature
of indifference

and when their contemplative mood explodes
we soak in the flames,
or laugh
at the fury of now
biting off our limbs to escape
their butterfly nets
and awed at the wonder
of nothing

they say they can disprove
e=mc˛
and they sneer at the thought of
the earth being round
and they write their autobiographies
in blood

what is there to be impressed by

but
a world of
coroners
boasting that their

poetry burns with the scent of
dead people
in
formaldehyde




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