domingo, 27 de novembro de 2016

The trumpet

The grand delusion peeling off his eyes
As he walks the men to his side smirk
and his megalomaniac tick thoughts fall
jump and cling to the trouser legs of his security detail

Nostradamus blows his nose
and cleans it on Da Vinci's mantle
The grand delusion still hangs from his face
marring the oval office


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