atila maddox | 3 makes 4

3 makes 4

in the trough we piled high the old wonder bread
the wrapper, the colors and the smell
all pig intoxicators
we’d watch as they frenzied themselves
into a lather for what lay ahead
snorting and reckless bumps, hop steps and jockey’s
in the hierarchy of lunch
an orgy of plastic and dough

like the corn from the fields, I don’t think it would matter much
if any of it was peeled…does a pig care what contents are
i think not…
relying on my basic primal instincts
manmade or otherwise those fuckers chomp, drool
and stink

at 14….
i watched my buddy fuck the queen of the brood in
the ass with an ear of corn
for sanitary reasons he emptied a loaf and slipped the bag
over his hand
a memory never to fade…
just one more slice of human natures dna
in the summer shift of Septembers days
to laugh might be crazy
and yes I still do
although to conceptualize the event
may be a little more deranged

but when boundaries and borders get blurred
sometimes they come undone
like 15 heads in Afghanistan
rolling free for having fun
no smiling faces will reappear
when their ghost come back around

and to the open eyes
peering for the ones now closed
2 trillion plus on war
is like watching a pig eat bread
and waiting for the 2nd round to hit
a little off on the amounts….
but 3 variations
in a minute thought
and on the outskirts of that horizon
lays 4
as the world bleeds like a loaf of bread

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