Oxtails and Martinis

standing on the ceiling, looking at the floor.

We, to busy, obsessing over the un-obsessable

Carousing our cities and hub urbs in a fog

 of over-consumerism and mirror imaging.

But the blank stare can be broken

As so many before them.

Peace and pleasure should be clamoured

Not fist full of cashing out bimbo bars before bereaving over currently lost loves.

Face booked into a frenzy

All a twitter-

to frantically recall the moments we never lived because we

Were too caught up in being caught up; moment passed.

 Call me crass and I’ll call you a cab to the side of the street were the worriers

Worry about celebrity and royal families.

Call me a hypocrite and I’ll hit you with some shit to

Split your brain back to revolution.

Dingbat debutants flaunting their fake nose joblessness to notoriety.

We’ve generationally pigeon holed our society into a laissez faire

Corner store

Go fuck yourself popularity contest of self-importance.

I personally have been blocking out the decade high on narcissism and women,

So drunk my family takes pity,

And money so spent banks quit trying.

Not buying what I’m selling? So find another felon, over educated and medicated

With conspiracy theories and bleary eyed stumbles through subways.

enthehyperrevolutionary