“If I spend one more day 

Here, I will end up dead.

Please don’t go away,

Just give me some bread.

Of sweet nectar, women,

Succulent green amassed-

Give an ear, I’ll be fast.

Now, among the seagulls

I must sit, with my tin,

Gazing at fat skulls

Holding sweating gin. 

My head boils, my ears

Fried, eyes gray rocks,

Tongue, ghostly clear.

Skin, feathers of hawk.

Before my bleak cocoon,

I stood meters above,

As big as the moon, 

As white as a dove. 

Liquid gold scratched

Nightly my smooth throat,

Hustlers choked and rode-

Whose life has matched?

My hands, sweet peaches,

Feet, warm, vibrant berries-

Plucked from neon beaches-

Snuffed light and dead fairies

Foretold my forever blue.

Boiling sea kisses my dead

Vines, reaching deep into

Muddy sand with mites red.

Then, shots peeled apart

layers of onion nails

Alongside the heart of

Children with sand in bails.

Monkeys chewed and spat

While cows smoked 

With roaring, talking cats.

Then, my pants soaked! 

Roaring waves smacked

on an unusual shore.

My arm now blacked.

I’m sorry if I’m a bore.

Now, I haunt this pier

While begging for cash

And you fur coats leer,

While I become ash.

However, my aches

Drag me closer to home.

Understand the stakes,

So I no longer roam.”