Face-eating Floridian zombies,
sartorial Seattle shoot-em-uppers,
necrophiliac Canuck porn actors on the run from Interpol,
Oh, cosmos, so tricksy.
Necrophiliac Politician, the best grindcore* band you've never heard of.
The apocalypse, it ain't coming, you've been soaking in it since day one.
Pass the popcorn, hold the delicious yellow chemical sludge.
Ain't feeling wordy sans offline, & that ain't for you.
This counts as 54% of a post, 38% of an MFA poem.
*example of an oxymoron