Goin' Fission
Goin' Fission The chest is sorely bruised: A constant, If erratic thumping, Renders soft flesh tenderized, While the stone beneath feels nothing, But the fear of consequence. The mouth is open, The mouth is always open. It is the loudest in the room. It is always the loudest in the room. Hear it praise itself! Someone has to… The hands are mismatched: One is blotchy purple, And when it isn’t, It is Covergirl pink. Both reach for the money, All the money. The eyes are blinded by gaudy paint, They fail to see the damage it wreaks. They do not read figures they do not like. They see enemies in every corner. They do not see ramifications. They only see dollar signs. The ears do not register. They hear no entreaties, They heed no advice. They are full of what the mouth has said, They listen that only, And are deaf to anyone without deep pockets. The brain is sodden. It...