Tying the pimp in dreams to a lamppost His tuxedo wet with wheedled kisses, can I wake up sucking the footprints of toilets In jails that glitter like crash-dived marquees. A dog appears in call letters on my skin. Twin worlds, who exchange threats via scoreboard I rival this night, this fight to the death With enough leftover, ooze for twosies yet. Either even, I wish I could put on take off My clothes without first saying to my cock "Excuse me, is this yours," while the stars The collected no-shows of eternity, rise. Hey, remember the way painters gauge perspective? Me, I cut the thumb off and throw it at stuff.