Confessions of confetti vomit, proverbial smears, spumes of spittle clinging to the gaping mouths of our freshly slaughtered youth. Nothing is taboo anymore. "Hustlers of the world, there is one Mark you cannot beat: The Mark Inside."
I'd also like to note that nearly all the writings and photographs are written/taken by me. If you reblog, please credit me. <3
The vomit of the collective masses:
Dollar signs, diamonds,
Cosmopolitan advertisements dripping with
Angular, bony models
Plastic, manufactured Gautreaus
and Flaming Junes
McDonald’s grease-streaked faces hiding underneath
Mosaics of cellophane tears
And capitalistic blankets
Slowly asphyxiating them,
Meek and benign,
Like an Angel of Mercy smothering a sick, dying baby.
The disheartened prose mingles between glossy photographs -
Cut outs of paper thin ladies in satin underpants or
Faux brutes wearing their roughneck-tough like the next fashion,
Cigarette pressed firmly between pouty lips,
A sexy revolver strapped to the hips.
Even they have no idea what it all means, but it looks good, right?
Tapped into the brains of a million consumer hungry youths,
Strangled by the cords of their Iphone chargers,
Regurgitating the pixilated words from their last text message.
Last Supper TV Trays serve food for thought-
Eat and puke back up, purge and binge.
Brain cells spume like bubbles in an IV, balloon and burst open, then get
Vigorously gobbled up by the masses, the media.