the logical conclusion being shkreli

David Greaves

 

then by the time we woke up it was already
silk. and pluck it like a company man,
was the message I kept hearing, twirling tin cans
on veins.     
               we’d lost our way beneath the floodlights,
which were unnecessary in the sun, and the shelves
wolfed down all our space. chewed over, curled in
then: a grid of wire        
                              and us loose in the resignation
of the queue, wound on round the abstract.
             pluck it like a landslide. then.
                                                             ear to the arrange;
space is only. and through the window  
             we woke up. by the time we were tin cans
chew us out of vein    
                                   you lose/and down me on light
but time was an illusion;

                                         extinguished us all

in the concatenation, the chrysalis giving way

to our mouthparts in haste. nothing but value.

choke on the goodness. nothing but law.

 

 

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