Old

I am demodè, vintage,
outdated, obsolete, outworn and old fashioned
in a word, old.
I’m not interested in vain frills
of human vanity
made of body sculpture,
nail art, body art, rowing,
spinning,
fucking!!!
Fuck them all
with their aerobics’
clothes,
their macrobiotics foods
and the veget “arian” ism
and all their decisions
take in order of style and fashion.
A unique solution to the “grotesque”
which rules and commands on our lives:
why don’t we shoot ourselves together
like in Uganda!?!
A great collective suicide
and we eliminate ourselves
making a please to mankind
unchaining it from false axioms dictated to us
from fashion of these days,
from advises of false experts of clothing,
food and wine, interior design
or inwardness of insides
deposited on abattoir’s pawnshop!
To the slaughterhouse!
Let’s cut them in pieces and
hang their meat.
A grind-mince-cripple-destroy
meaty cells
carriers of protein contents
and donor of new exuberant strength.
Under limoncello effect.
Maybe another grappa.
Maybe we get it over and forget
building’s grayness which surround us,
which wrap around and get us high on great and desolating
grayish mood
giving us new morning made
of creative smog distorting reality deep-rooted in centuries
and driving people all around the city
seeking new opportunities to produce
green color bucks!