and melting flesh
upon a small tower of shit
I laugh frequently at the ripping gears
at the glitter of machine teeth
I have nothing left to say to the grass
or the molecules of soil it springs from
what a joy to burn inside these rings of gas
these ribbons of bright planetary trouble
decorating a beautifully smeared sky
reflected on ruined waters
that I drink with an electric cup
in the meat slab light of sunrise
selling cobwebs to plastic shufflers
goblets of grease to paper passerby
and a necklace of bullets and rancid tampons
to yours truly
because I'm so fucking real
and so fucking great
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