Boutique Tumblers

Parasol windbag soapbox heroes stammer and stumble through veiled rusty violence. Church pew politicians and cretins salivate slowly stepping over blood puddles on baby blankets seizing with baby boomer undulations writhing in war monger guilt and mansions. Yard of the month medallions smeared with golden stray dog feces woven in racist blanket statements cast by megaphone all stars raping soil and hope and culture and fear and quantum truth for two pennies to rub together. Fat fingers and enough snapshots to drown in. Enough to fill a rising ocean. Enough to picture a generation of obtuse despair on display for best friends and pedophiles and bosses and dead grandmothers to brag about. A future stabbed in the voice box. Silenced for pop star sequins and E. coli glacier water bottled in paper mache boutique tumblers.