lady gaga's voice as a paperweight and anti-symbolic Byron
oohhh lala
the cat hiccups
serenades the mice in the moon
and I make do with flashlights
forging the way through
another semester of elopement -
the poetry of subconsciousness
and on the sour tongues
of the next generation-infestation
we sing:

…caught in a bad romance.

sex is as forlorn
as the utopian sky, climaxing
nightly on the first sweaty rose-hip
sunshine salute, bloated from the gloat
of once again stumbling on top,

the flop
of another female
making it as a male.