Idolatrous Happenstances

Six enormous clusters of shit;
Like my
Nugget,
Plagiarized by nostalgia &
Inchworms.

So says sexual unchastity,
So says
Incomplete theoretical construct.

Depth of field,
Field therapy,
As if to exploit
The middle class.

My entirety of cessation depends
Upon glass not shattered,
Not broken into fragmentary pejoratives;
But cleansed
With surrealism and dadaism,
And all the isms.

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