no statement/Sex & revolution

my fake counterfeit poems
with their dance and fake lines
and my neutral fake claims

unlive on my unreal life
stuck in my unreal house
with their none real thoughts.

my fraud art along with my
fake beauty and my posh loose
Lexus like kitschy intuition

unsleep together in my inexistent
bed, up in my secret bedroom, down
deep in my dream within a dream

beyond of the greatest wide shot
what else intrigues me is just past
inside another small scheme

they taught Sex was dirty
yesterday big, but now on/off
they want it all be spiffy clean.

my fake knowledge eats slowly
&my false chair is warm, dim light
friends disposed at the table

like hazy impressions – they
smalltalk trends, brands &
newest of tools & so, she’s

stuffed like a pig. while we
mock&fakekill fake god
with both of your minds’

hands chopped off to, flying
thru the fake ground’s ill-
matched & bien-mapped desert

dusty design-work which
it clearly says, glowingly
power to y’all – heroes

me – for 2 no different reason
i’m quite that indifferent
and naked and fool.

Bogdan Puslenghea
Illustration Nick Victor