COLLAGE, MON AMI

Art Deco laughter, my dear friends. Death delays the aging process. I am not the man you seek. The bottle is empty so bring me my supper. I demand my fix, my fifteen minutes. Sleep threatens the single beat of the drum. Filthy dreams of success, honour badges. Drink, my friends, drink. I love you. I declare this. Dare you believe? Did I strike you as a simple man? You claim knowledge of secrets we can never possess. Will you reveal the hidden chambers of your flesh where you secrete unspeakable crimes and the hungry dreams they feed upon? Honesty is seldom nurtured. We feed our hearts the dry expanses of social graces, mistaking stones for loaves of bread. Show me your prisoners, the children you have guarded from the flames of scrutiny. Parole is a foolish bout of optimism. You may never release your hidden pleasures. Surely the noonday sun shall bake the living juices from tender embryos, leaving charred skin and brittle bones to face the scrutiny of your loved ones.