A note on economic circumstances

Someone said ‘shit, this makes no sense’, and the world sunk to its knees again . We exchanged our feet for cake. We ate until we were fatter. We sunk the world. And lower, still.
I could kill that someone. If I wanted to leave my bed, I could kill. With a steak knife. Or a dessert spoon.
The cake was worth it. Not one of us can run. We are more equal than ever.

A man on the TV proposed the sale of our legs for some more sugar. Somehow, someone did something. And we have no legs. So the world grated soft our stronger genitals.
I could fuck that someone. If I could leave my bed, I could fuck. With a steak knife. Or a dessert spoon.
The sugar was worth it. Not one of us can walk. We are more equal than ever.

And lower, still.

Piles of dough.
Pits should be dug for all the shit.

tbc.

: 25 Feb 2010 12:14 |  Tags: Prose |  Comments (0) |  Report a problem