Fragment, Unfinished, In Process

In the Liberty Valance afternoon
I shot myself
a glace
and painted Masserati dreams
with a stick shift and gloves for hands.

Separate from the sun but covalent
I wealth myself with gasoline and hopelessness
two pennies for the daily dreams
speaking tunes of drama-ship songs
and catch-dog foreheads.

Unbalanced
Brocade
Advanced
Unanimously
and I saw them all clearly.

White walls, Asylum by any other name
would be as corporate, and headquartered,
headmastered by a man named Senior Management
and look... can I really survive without these
400,000.00 copperheads?

//FRAGMENT.