Charlie has fools believing
snails fleeing the morning sun
are the top fuel dragsters
of his swiftest dreams.
A fledgling bodybuilder waves his hands
before his glazed over eyes.
“He looks as vacant as a statue.
Let’s call im Mannequin Man”
A chorus of callous laughter ensues.
Predators man every compass point,
and point every compass.
“Leave me alone” Charlie mumbles.
“Leave me alone, leave me alone”
their caustic mimicry gouges.
Charlie ends his reptilian torpor like pause,
by drawing blood with piston paws.
Seven vultures flee in terror,
as their painted T-Rex bursts into flames.
The footpath shudders in revulsion
beneath the smoldering wreckage of his ego.
Charlie sinks back
into the mine shaft of his misery,
an ants stroll from the unconscious giant.