by Ben Nardolilli
Any interested parties herein? I sought to execute a release, they ended up executing me.
The conscious pain and suffering, while extreme, lasted approximately 30 years. Yes,
I sought to execute a release. Just the good air and the silent situation. All necessary releases.
I left New York behind, the only decent discovery zone for games and diversity.
Every economy devolves into paperclip and rubber band mercantilism. I tried to seek a remedy.
Searching for a successor in interest, no one came except the years, twenty-nine insulations
and counting. Call me a qualified success, hereby doing business as the Nardo Trust.
Figure the damages that got through. Give me the gross, it’s only fitting
Disbursements go first to Counsel then they go round again to satisfy the Counsel’s fee. Take
the net and split your two remaining cents, it’s all the difference I have left.
Your rounding errors leave me square. I do like some serious artists still. Your favorite
Beach Boy is a con. Or perhaps he’s just the creationist version, A Billionaire Dinosaur Done
This super awkward dominance? Plutocrats, into your hands I command my spirit. The corpse is wrapped with characters. Redirect yourselves to the Billy Sheers theory. I do believe
I’ve had enough. Today’s mildly interesting, they say I’m not under disability, or else a corporation or association. Gentlemen, what have we here? The wrongful death of my trust.
Ben Nardolilli currently lives in New York City. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, fwriction, Inwood Indiana, Pear Noir, The Minetta Review, and Yes Poetry. He blogs at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is looking to publish a novel.
Image credit: Will Broomfield on Unsplash