a badly done haiku about gun safety

  дети  веселые
          они пулемет нашли
никто не живет

(some happy children

   found a big, old machine gun

     everyone's dead)

   
   

slapping underworld

Let's play pretend
that your life is
    under control ;
Don't get defensive
        about the
drinking and the trick
     you have,
the one where you make
          every one
nod like puppets
  and cut our
       own  strings
while we jiggle our
     chalky heads
 in agreement to
      your latest
indiscretion.

  It's bad luck
      or getting touched
 by an uncle when you
           were nine
or some other outrage
       horrible as it
            is
still not an excuse to be
       such a sorry
               endeavor
leaving imploded egos
        and aborted
  feelings of adequacy
    in your tumbling wake,  
        the scent of too much
                perfume and
   vodka prop wash
             trailing
behind your scanty
        frame
festooned with
     worshipful bruises
   dripping with attention
nobody is that pretty
nobody is that smart
    you're just as
    boring as the rest
      of us,
               but lacking
a sense of
    shame