a poem for today, 12 October 2012
[a syllable sorted sonnet of ten sentences and its image]
Social entertainment powered by the passions of fans.
The poem is a manifesto for true negation.
However, there is no such biological substance.
I'm not talking about anger, I'm talking about rage.
Do not attempt to stop chain with your hands or genitals.
Bodies will have to pay for their excesses of language.
I'm gonna kick some guy in the balls, it's a fetish shoot.
You don't have to worry, we're not going to hurt you.
The show only stops for a minute.
I’m on the verge of vomiting now.
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