Gender Reveal

You were all invited to the gender reveal of my knives.

Cake was the only family to attend.

I shattered glass terrariums upon personalized placards.

Cursed the gods of snacks for taking so long to brand themselves woke.

The realtor I hired sent condolences in swathes of corporate regalia.

I placed printer cartridges up my urethra to piss contractual smiles.

“We’re sorry you feel”, the rest auto-tuned within 24-48 hours.

I took advantage of the rented trampoline by learning how to stay fucking put.

The nude who jumped from my hollowed out cake accused escalators of putting stairs out of

business.