to be in utopia,

to be without consequences –

what does that really mean?

a douchebag that feels not, sees not, hears not

because the destination

is reached. be without repercussions

while the peacock spends endless time opening

closing those brilliant colored feathers

but the brain is alarmingly small,

don’t say a word for a tyrant sits on the throne

and suffer those would,

for any critique unpleasing!

hush now, already the breathing is a little faster,

eyebrows are raised, for the illusion begins to crack

when untouchable is surfacing from within

a mirror and walks through thin air,

like the rabbit vanishing from a magician’s hat,

so too the proud peacock and douchebag

for both now begin to crumble at a fantasy gone wild.

no more rehearsal tomorrow, the rouge has entered

the scene, disentangling fine cobwebs, dusting

off fairy tales unreal.

no stable ground is at hand,

when power vanishes, so too does midnight strike,

then the trickster sees, hears, feels

what had always been real.