A Curse Called Lust, and The Domino Effect Thereafter

Sex is a fashion
And Procreation died out
In Detroit
With the automobile industry
Riding the back of a Ford
Speeding through a tunnel
Whilst hanging by its feet
Out the back window
As the world watched
Gluttons stuffed and satisfied

The thought of spreading seed
Into the muck
So overwhelmed with pleasantries
Has given me a new lease on
Pessimism (One which has become more addiction
Than past time)
For pleasantry has become pageantry
On the catwalk where society
Has us trample and stumble
Leading us to forked avenues
It is here the Executioners
Deem us worthy or not
Yet I choose to believe
(In a moment of weak optimism)
Change can be presented formally
In short bursts
Only to provide a true Coup D'Etat
On our culture

There, Politicians never open their mouth
To reveal their rotten jowls of ill contempt
There, the Beauty Queens never open their mouths
To reveal lackluster musings on life
This is walking hand in hand
With the stigma of these kinds
That some, if not most,
If not all
These persons are liars and below average thinkers

But we are surrounded by these people
More than we allow ourselves
To see
To admit
So at this moment
I have no use for a fashion rooted
In two principles I wish to not
Adhere to
Lust and Procreation;
Vanities, Smoke and Mirrors

Yet as soon as the pen leaves the paper
We'll see how long it lasts
For we are all
Weak and Immoral;
The blight, of Living and Breathing