Refeed.

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“Whatever floats your boat”, so they say;
go on, pick a direction and float it away –
there’s nothing that gets me more enraged,
than to be forced to read –
your lust-dusted refeeds
different name, same face of greed;
such a painfully obvious approach,
to see which bidder pays the most;
all while bumping gum,
unsuccessfully playing dumb,
over the cracks and the crumbs
spun with your own identity.

“Whatever sinks your pickle”, goes the word;
One of the most warped statements I’ve ever heard –
go ahead and sink, while I fly like a bird,
such a fitting thought –
considering how you are not
a thing that you claimed you were;
Such a quick-handed draw,
to salt the wounds that you saw;
all while carrying on,
talking shit all day long,
but what have you got?
besides an arsenal of rotten sugar.