The People's Court

   I am not going to say the words you say at yourself
 
   Denial is more than incinerated

   Homes you should have never entered.



   Uncalloused hands on alpha bears

   Touch unkempt porous

    Leather; dime

    Run mysteries

    Chew and spit the mush

    Left from patrol-

    Less grinding tomb bones.



    You wouldn't be offended if you weren't at a loss,

    Unable to envision

    Contests dried of righteous motive;

    Zero-sums leave no wreath

    Of victimhood to embrace.



    "I will not take any blame,"

    You appall

    At my jawless pinpoint scoops

    Of obvious pursuits

    Somehow your thicket hides from you.


    My wrath hath

    No sentence.

    I will not see the through

    Street connect

    From my bubble to your algal bloom,

 
    Your tar-fumed, vestal playplace

    Where structures melt in orcal cries

    Imaginary and upsetting


    To fans

    Saddled with cooing
   
    You from your filth.



    To care is to be pathetic.


    One rotund line misshapen

    Can cipher cold

    From once-abounding dawns

    Seemingly used

     To quick, dry mentions.


     Put away your Hester's hat,

     Unfit for pride-less harlots

     More thatched by mousetraps th()n

     They are aware of what they're wretching.


     Keep distance, young

     Despoiled despoiler,

     You most unwillingly latched;

     Spare none in your vanquishment of praise.


     No filter can character

     Charcoal shadows you

     Erect.


     Much life upon thee,

     Never-Held-To-Any-Ghost.

 
     Mischeif will die someday.