jaced mace
just can't wait.
he's got to get to heaven
or they'll close the main gate.

sharp eyes
and a daze maced face-
glaring at your monkey
with a piercingly fake gaze.


hard lines
with no embrace,
rushing through the maze
in a haste and glazed daze.

fear not
he's just a slave,
combing out unauthorized
fizzled and jaced waste.


mace says:
“don't be late.
smile wide
and garner a laced face.”

it's not wrong,
it's just a faze.
stand up beaming
in this wrathfully jaced space.


look around,
tumbling through space
you're it
you're the name mace.

hold tight,
riding the maced wave.

don't fight it
as it's right in it's right place