Saturday, October 04, 2008

Mickey men

The land circles over itself, never ending.
The houses of colour and the houses of white,
the houses yawning in sobriety,
the houses screaming bourgeoise.
Passes Red pants, Mickey man, polka shirt and an expensive scarf and mascara
On a black bicycle with white coated pedals
Chanel handbag
Streaking No. 9

Is a colour that falls neither this way nor that
A compromise between yin and yang
The most colourful of greys
The most wonderful of ways
To live

Clown paint for a face
A dress to displace testicles
Inside the house with twisted walls lay
Pictures on display
A mom, a dad, a little white situation
With a strange twisted mirrors
Inviting vacuum
Threatening to consume
Pushing into confines
Putting into place
Everybody without an identity,
Without conformity

You are who you are born as, son
Wide, white winged angels
Cant recover
Queens with no names
Princes with hidden uteruses.

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