No Riddle
Grifting childhood dreams, curdling feminine wiles
into pig slop I sell for a $5.95 by the freeway exit.
I destroyed my innocence in exchange for eternal whimsy.
Cavernous abattoir, lake swept and scraggle kempt,
I remove twigs from my innards and strike them into
matches. In between black patches I catch snatches of
wurms, oblong displays of equivocal divinity -
I blaspheme. I see nothing save memories of my
beloved, syntax that once fell, not wurms, winged
swine or any other cryptid. No visions - only
diction, cellophane transparently muting tactile
meaning - It's all in what's been lost, folks.
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