Friday 22 November 2013

#39 - Unfortunately, Twitter Has Stopped

Utterances begin burgeoning like horrible blancmanges,
words spilling on and on - 180 characters, 190, 200.
The art of the bon mot, of the lexical amuse-bouche,
collapses upon itself like a pitchforked toad,
shrieking. The falconer cannot organise his observations
on falconry into discrete, amusing maxims.
Peter Serafinowicz falls from his sky palace, burning.
We do not know what is trending.
Unable to sneer at the mundanity of others,
hipsters become briefly cognisant of their own lives
and implode.

A single blue bird flies free from its cage.

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