No Animals were Harmed

No animals were harmed

in the making of this
taking place,
this land happily
filled
because this
tantalum tipped lifestyle
is disposable
you know,

No animals were harmed,

only helped—
when the chicken,
with its whole life
stretched out
over
five hundred
square
wire
centimetres
is such a successful
bird species–

No animals were harmed

—that is,
if you count as success
a biomass
that can barely
stand
because of its
augmented breasts.

When big is best,
when trees are yesterday,
when
open cut
is the
new black
and when
the most beautiful thing
reviles
itself because…

shit, I don’t know why.

When we declaim domestic violence
and there are
still
fifteen
dead;
Then you know,

Know animals were harmed,

only helped—
the man
with his whole life
stretched out
over
fifty liquid crystal inches

—man
must be
tripping
trying to flip
5 bucks for a
Big Issue;
too fucking much
for a couch
let alone a life—

let alone
a bag of
hope
when the dealer’s
out the door,
overhead,
on the street,
dropping
samples
like they’re
rain
or whispered words
or love
or leaves
or sunlight
or flowers.

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