Aborting Mickey Mouse

A child doodles a crater.

Which becomes the Grim Reaper's church.

The sun dissects the opacity of the bloated sea monster.

Syphilitic clown-sinew brewed up by incest

in a horseshoe of alternative bladders;

Bollywood speed-dating

in formations of decaying bugs.

To the glorifying catcalls of ghouls, SpongeBob's shorts recrudesce –

replacing a McDonald’s tripod

with a bony Mount Doom.

Blackened, half-aborted Mickey Mouse-polystyrene

left to be raised by wolves.

Warhol's ADD disfigured his voodoo doll. By now an outdated Ewok,

buried alive in the form of smoothly stacked Pringles,

it moonwalks a braid of crumbs to the anus of a vending machine ...

along the paisley fringes of vertigo and Warp Drive's stink,

the hollowed-out basement's

shoggoth-outflow disguised

as paths bent weird by floods.