disastrophe

amen you post-apocalyptic televangelist.
take me away in your tanned medallion hair, leave me for broke in an abandoned dumpsta.
lie to me, say its yellow, believe in something given from kings and queens of things ive never seen.
but first have the patience to ease it up.
let it slide.
but never, i repeat, never
let things fall by the wayside in order to acquiesce
always push on towards that one shining moment in the sun, when your creative mind will be showcased.
but beware those that'll eat your brain.
they lurk in every corner, every abandoned warehouse of the underground.
juggling disembodied fruit.
they do so merely to please themselves.
now the real question.


Shouldn't you?