Ana

Slog through this
poorly paced shit and you'll
run aground on the anagram
generator mechs that patrol
the grammar roads of legitimacy--
like legitimate literature pours out
the academic assholes, like always
clenching tight, ya--
follow the red ambulance
down the street with those eyes
reading further for the answers
mechanically separated dark meat,
light meat, parts and pieces, hell
it's all over hieroglyphs on the
telling walls--they're protected
electronically
from our fingerprints--luckily--

Last thing I want is for them
to be scared.