Scribbled during Dessa, Sufu, 4.23)

boozy eyes don’t lie,
but they don’t speak truth; rather
they blindly accuse

punch for pound, these jabs
clear syndicated heartache,
my mind’s trite offspring

my tears are panda
tears: soft, cuddly, exctinct
before they’re counted

microphone, step up;
I can’t do this by myself.
Klieg lights, lend a hand

Profit through slander,
these prophets kick and scream and
fake another day