05-09-2019, 05:00 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-09-2019, 05:00 PM by RiverNotch.)
The lizardmen built our modest party basement
on a crossroads: all the city's toilet
pipes drain here. I can't stand the smell.
I'd rather die than go back
to Facebook, Twitter, and the like.
Even if friends and readables frequent there,
the minty freshness of community
cannot overcome, and relatives
who don't know how to live
in an age where lies don't stop
at the edges of towns or by points of crowns
flush their diapers full
of shit and shame, senility's costume,
down the drains, clogging pipes to burst.
on a crossroads: all the city's toilet
pipes drain here. I can't stand the smell.
I'd rather die than go back
to Facebook, Twitter, and the like.
Even if friends and readables frequent there,
the minty freshness of community
cannot overcome, and relatives
who don't know how to live
in an age where lies don't stop
at the edges of towns or by points of crowns
flush their diapers full
of shit and shame, senility's costume,
down the drains, clogging pipes to burst.