Johnny Mem

 

Tyranny is a soup best bifurcated by patriarchy.

so old gran always said as she baked the smells of smarm

till the windows ran from the oilskin like old men in need of salad.

Artificial brains always remind me of that dessert

 

with the tentacles and the expiration date

shining in one perfect summer like Nerf bikinis

dipped in dangerous Substacks, the halo of hernias 

lowing softly in the mistrial. If only we could return

 

not to what we were, but to what we would be in a separate discourse

with more engagement and shitposting, more gelatinous rescue

of what Arnold Schwarzenegger terminated before he was good/evil 

or evil/good. But you can’t put your face

 

in the same fire twice, for the fire may pivot to video,

but it is not the same. And neither is your face.