Tits over Teakettle
He tumbles
the whir and rumble
of artificial breeze ceases
and it's hot, oh good lord it's hot
the faceplant recovery
now the whole thing's shot
liquid metal like elaborate
Robert Patrick cosplay
have you seen this boy
now do whatever the cops say
timed injections, once a day
laced apple keeps the demons at bay
what about when you line up for bread
and the baker is dead?
when you ring the bell and there is no reward
drooling in dry-mouth, blood pooling on sidewalk
lashing out, clawing at surroundings
unchained, unbridled, so romantic, so romantic
right until it rips your throat out
the heat is cooking this sci-fi suit
the clunky but functional
retro-futurist
the gauges are doing that thing where they spin
but if i take off the helmet and let the heat in
the terrorists win
desperate calls to mission control
but they can't reroute power until next week
apologies for the inconvenience
we care until we don't care
about how you feel
your illness is only an illness when it's convenient
otherwise, the rest of the time, it's simply not real
The visor steaming up, and I pull the release
find the nearest, coolest improvised weapon I can
Fuck you, bring it on
I can make it a week
Fuck you, bring it on
I've seen this one before
the monsters at the door are phantoms, nothing more
but then again this place exists only in my mind
chemicals fading, running out of time
here they come
I won't go down without a fight.
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