Explaining Fashion to the Outdated Vampire
Through personal libraries with empty stacks
filling with dust mites, packed like bars
with monsters playing poker for kitty-cats,
I walk all worlds with beauty and light up my sleeves.
Everywhere I see humans frazzled
with waiting for mochas, hyped at stoplights.
Underneath their slimy patience
there is a constant raiding, like the mayor
cuddling boy Scouts one moment,
swallowing spiders the next.
Glance sideways and you can see
humans and demons at sunset.
You get why cardigans are out?
It comes down to the sewers,
we are all searching for dark, empty places.
Layers are out, now the people
want me to stab through evil,
expose your world as shit.
It’s all about loud patterns
look—a flower—a dove—
the bright dream of a singular surface.