Mannequins of Decay

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In a sold-out show, I stand nude in the shop window,
Tabula rasa, in line, awaiting to be told what to put on to sell,
Like convicts waiting execution, mannequins they have turned us into.
Semi creatures greeting each other with smiles and venomous corporate hand shakes,
Mechanization is death imitation is death repeat after me repetition is death.
I’ve gone to the depths of myself and found
I am cut in half, sliced in one thousand bits of flesh and mourning,
All screaming on the inside
Puppets on the outside strangled with price tags hanging upside down.
Oh Marilyn, how did you know?
They crucified an Antichrist
While sickness shots pricked babies into combat mannequins:
Believe, obey, consume, conform shots, delivered to you on the same platter,
In the end, they’ll make your shot scars your flaws;
Now the million dollar mannequin machines draw fire and shed blood
And brand every other mannequin and none of them really make sense of each other. Continue reading