Afternoon Of A Meatstick

Mechanical, orthodox and brutal

from point A to point B...

(no point in anything else),

God autopilot beacon blares

directions...Meaty listens:

"God told me to get a hot dog

with relics and mustard...

hold the mayo." ...preparing a face

to meet the faces made of meat,

airtight and indomitable,

chattering lethally noir charisma,

at home in an isolated, heavyweight,

fathead maze.