I drank a pot because it wanted me to;
Bit onto its lip and sipped its sexuality,
I was awake then, then I fell asleep ―
It'll need a cadence of me to not bore me;
A filament drop of me, a sacred reversion
From society, toward me
To promote the old pickle;
To boss over the supercilious chap,
As I veer ― ME!
I can't put myself on lease, or do
More ― one shape ― will you please
Let there be: my highlight, my sole
On the stallion before ―
I utter ― "ME!" ― And laud myself
For bravery.
Let me see the world with my eyes―
Let me be ― a curious bastard;
With my physique like a Matryoshka doll.
Your hope is as coarse as a sultry day,
That patches itself to rocks
And stays silent ―
When they lie dormant on their beds,
You come slipping through hounds
To pull their eyes out.
