sarcasm, dear folks, is the fashion
the youth doesn't redistribute praise
i stare bewildered at each phrase
that seems like it precedes a punch

who taught these giants of wit and reason
which heart strings could be safely played
at the gym or at an awkward dinner date
without enraging the aging pig sty

i notice i am slowly growing thick
slowing on my fifteenth beer
and the rats perk up at the smell of fear
crawl up my thigh and into my soul