Your memories can be eased away
But mine will last me through many summers
Send me to a place
where only raw blood will stain the mind
for that's all people think about
and say: there's a man in my kitchen
kill him
before he kills my appetite
for death has lost it's tragedy

To a place where the lights
are shutting right about now
and fairies
their skins like naked crocuses
start to play
and as they approach
with their vague smiles
the sky spews dark
water like an orgasmic fountain
and I lie strapped to my anger
People bob their heads like puppets
boredom blooming out of their hands in sweat.
To a place where animals
spew madness out like
money. Greedily.
And then I'll know my true value
as a saint
for here we are just getting fatter.