The Devils Fairytales: or, I don't mind failure.

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Walking with paper-mache-wings,
as if mistaken for some other kind of shadow
twirling through the wind as spirits on holiday.
Jack o' lanterns are smiling and laughing to Buddy Holly's not fade away.
Without the hours of patience for the devil's fairytales.
My angel sit's in the dark of a tower...
Post-German expressionist cinema is so tame,
the ghost masturbates with a glass dildo with
                           her favorite cricket inside of it.
Kristin Tzara does not understand the pleasure of the task at hand.
Nor, what the cricket fears.
Desperately Jumping with each penetration
   but forgotten after each vibration in the hand of God.
The large cork that imprisons it inside of a novelty item,
that is sold in gas stations on the way to hell...

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