and as the ceramics reflect in two meanings, I laugh along

and as the ceramics reflect in two meanings, I laugh along

i.
Oh, how promiscuously has this giant slept.
In roadside ditches, with off-pavement glare tattooing his eyelids red,
or in trash bins, collecting the scratched off tickets and tear-laundered cash
of a world forgotten, dead as the lotto winner you hate.
Sing him a song, sanguine Romeo,
you gay lovers of the dark-dank kind. But I’ve put up my halitosis shields
to keep the AIDs away and both of you gay:
bisexual is just another word for politics.

ii.
Scrape off your crustaceous longings and purge away that shade of red.
I feel up your combustible height, but the only element within
is that of crumpled pages and gold bound bibles. There’s nothing here for me to free.
Compact your hope into a rubber ball, and I’ll rebound it off and against that brick stump of ‘Negligence’.
Could you have felt this without him showing you how?

iii.
Eros has swapped a quiver for a can, and favors the brush over the blade.
As some melodramatic refraction to show us the way, I can’t help but smile
at this silly guise of floating lies.
Still, in shaft and shard resides those pigments of perfection,
pierce this my anti-gravity fiend, painting my veins a grayscale Van Gogh
while fluttering about with your preconceived notions about the nature of conception and such ridiculous concepts as hate; what could a slumbering behemoth dream to that?
Still, there’s no spite in the fake nor hate in the snake,
But there is a u in stupid.