Say Cheese

by Mark

Small talk, just sales pitches. Visualizations of laughter
and smiles; the
White paper of our soul
Blanked by the corrupted
Files. Our insides know
all cards come bullshit
Wanting to spit out
splattered Pollock ‘ s
Of Fuck your smiles,
Smothering our ethereal eyes
With aqua trickles plump
On the curved point of
The lip. Hidden Pagliacci
Burned by the rack
for Ronald and friends.