I'm nada,
paper,
toast.
You should dissect me,
organ viewing fun
for the whole family.
Remember the flicks,
fantasized biology
with a sidekick comic
and the heartthrob who died
or scored.
Sex and death
are the pedophiles
of the leisure industry,
the lure
of control.
We return to nada,
paper,
toast.
And why?
Because of the famous pedophile,
or the fantasized biology?
Or the lure
and the leisure?
The indelible image of excess.
Does violence become love?
Is love a becoming of violence?
Or does expectation manufacture perception.
We are not what we think we are
We should be
what we want to be.
Pedophiles and expectations be damned.