Fuck terminal humanity, I’m the terminal ballerina
Smearing yr anthropocene anxiety complex
With my bloody toe shoe, terminal blood.
I am hanging off the parapet, Grand Central Terminal
Watching your blood rush—Who choreo’ed this shit show?
Certainly not the terminal ballerina…
Certainly not anyone with style!
I’ll style your finale, glue glass in your box
On pointe, you’ll be pointless, bleeding out
In my swan dive death drive, I’ll be flying off the parapet—
Love rushes by, life rushes by
BUT MY RED SHOES LOOK SICKENING
I wank my ankle, nails coming, creaming terminal fluid
Your facial recognition—SPLAT—the gunk of doom