~Artificial~


Blank slate
lightweight,
fleshless frame.
Long rows
all of those,
every one the same.
Pick it out
doesn't matter
make it thinner
make it fatter;
give it meaning
give it none
throw it back out
when your done
with

Glass eyes
severed ties,
mannequin hands.
blank face
dead race,
lined on the stands.
Take it home
make it yours
build a friend
build a whore;
custom genies
in blank bottles,
toss them out
for newer models
just

Pick one up. . .
that's what they're for.

Customize it. . .
make it yours.

Paint it's face. . .
give it a name.

They won't hurt,
much. . .

isn't it a game?

Take it,
color it once--
paint it your
private toy.
Give it a chance,
to give you
artificial
'joy'.
Break it,
play with it once--
make it your
heirloom trash.
Send it on back,
call for your
refund,
cash.

(Color it,
color it black
and greys. . .)

Firstborn
threadworn,
christlike child.
So smart
dead heart,
train it to smile.
Raise it right
make it nice
perfect virtue
perfect vice;
bring it up on words
of blood and
sent it out
it needs no love
for

White gaze
drugged haze,
morphine voice.
Make it up
break it up,
can't make a choice.
You're the parent
tell it better
lay the laws out
lay the letter;
when you took it
did you want it
did you love it
will you flaunt it?
Was it worth it
is it pretty,
is it perfect
can it pity?

(Color it. . .
give it your ideal
face)

Blank slate
lightweight,
all the same;
harddrive
unalive,
give it a name.
Just this
artifice,
master design--

our sterilzed children,
our paperdoll line.



~~~~~(c) The Mad Poet (A.K. LaBelle) 10-20-02