so called

I would die for this, that, those
chh.

woven with 5% integrity, 2% honesty and 93% posturing

fibres of oppressed sweat, yarns of countless dreams


lift off the precious glass dome,
confront the dainties
confirm with a
touch
sniff
lick
suddenly
the magic goes poof!
the shiny packaged delusion,
deflates with a wheeze.

it's not so precious after all.
(revelation of the year!)

who started it?
Chanel, Gucci or boss of the mob, Louey V?
puppeteer of paupers and princes alike
Chimaera of untold proportions,
powered by shackled minions
gorges on foolish millions

Barbie-nators and Ken-bots
stomp stomp stomp, pout pout pout
yet even the Plastic giggles
at the sad hilarity
of a show putting on a show.