order up

          
         
         
         
I want my bones          
bleached white:          
         
white as toothpaste,          
         
white as the soul of          
a saint,          
         
white as a money          
shot laid across my      
face at the end of          
long hardcore night.          
         
I want my thoughts        
to be snack food          
for the gods.            
         
I want degradation,          
         
I want desecration,          
         
i want inspiration.          
         
I want the holy spirit          
of pornography to          
thumb me down for          
a short ride to hell.          
         
I want rats in my          
bed,          
         
rats eating my head,          
         
a head rat eating          
the soul of          
Hemingway.          
         
I want steaks,          
         
mistakes,          
         
retakes.          
         
I want religion          
squirted out of          
a pig's ass.          
         
I want instant          
gratification          
to wait for a          
second.          
         
I want an orgasm          
that will last for          
twenty-four          
hours straight          
         
I want to tattoo,          
"FUCK YOU BITCHES"          
 on the ass of the          
moon for everyone          
to see and watch as          
they suck the          
rosey red balls of          
indifference, then          
sleep walk through          
their deep fried          
horseshit lives.          
I want death to          
shove his tongue          
down my throat          
with its pop sick          
flavor then kick          
his boney ass          
out of bed to          
do the walk          
of shame home          
in the spun out          
tremulous
crystal meth          
cloud morning.          
         
and I want a cup          
of coffee, black,          
double sweet,         
four poached eggs          
with salt and pepper,          
plus two slices of          
toast slathered in          
existential          
butter,          
         
I want the breakfast  
of the insane.    
     
I want you sitting    
next to me in this    
monkey fucked,    
death defying      
backwards orgy    
carnival ride of    
living.        
         
that's          
what          
I          
want,      
     
so hold on tight,    
baby.