12
fancy dinero speak of the rising sun:
I’m coming for you angel, three cheers for
me; watching what you’re doing down there
fucking me like crazy: it’s you i adore,
making mountains out of molehills, got to
be sure; well, friend, you are handsome
enough: can’t wait to meet a woman like you,
propel me, god willing, one step closer
to my god - he’s a man of many seasons,
Jesus, for me, is a broad. don’t know
exactly how this works, but, if I had to
guess, i’d say His values could be better
I’d like to see them improved; going, no
way, loco, to the end of the night; defer
to my woman—an angel out of sight.
I’m ready and willing to use a racial slur
I’m climbing Mount Everest, don’t think
I’ve heard this one before: eager beaver
in the kitchen, fucking mopping the floor
crazy math problems, wrapped around my
head—proving the fifth dimension with an
operator instead. Don’t get me started;
number theory in the works; look after
yourself to look after me . . . bomb the shit
out of that shitty fucking country, right
now, loco, he is insane in the brain
kill them sooner or later, a damn shame.
why do you assume that you’re better
than me? Well, don’t hate me: hate the game
low down woman, treating me this way
makes me so angry; bedevil the shrew
there’s nothing to tame—better things to
do; isolate his rhythm, stop on a dime;
being rich, my darling, isn’t a crime . . .
insane in the brain—planning my fate;
don’t ask me what I think of those I hate—
like the dumocrats—chosen enemy,
going to live forever, hugging an oak tree
noose in my pocket . . . sweetheart’s voice on the line; she’s been with him forever; i must be out of my mind. well, probably so—but things go sideways; i need a woman on my level - getting dragged down by his mediocrity
well, don’t be cruel; i’m in the middle of becoming something greater than this. It’s a way of life, don’t go taking the piss. Well sugar-mama, wish you were rich then I could come and see you . . . we could suck a little dick
well I lost four years—four of my best; running for a third term—might as well just take it. Look, shine a light on me—you can see what I’m about; potus is a person—we don’t have to shout
why do you defend me? why do I hide?
Nothing to be ashamed of, here, nothing
to deny: So go on and ask me what I am:
I’ll tell you the truth, and i won’t give a damn
protect us, then, our reputation will
blow taking my medicine, that much I
know. well, you’re not the woman for me
I can hear it in your voice . . . afraid to
admit that He was given a fucking choice
rejoice, darling, I’m out of your hair,
something strange is happening to the
atmosphere. poison the well with my
predatory ways—once upon a time, I
pursued a racist fucking full time ho,
nobody ever married, double down and go
see you on the other side: psyche, some
people don’t exist: I don’t deny the
holocaust—but there’s something i missed
thinking in the quick time of the drugs
i balled up in a fist; inject me with a serum
truth serum if you like; i’m from the
places, darling, that nobody would like
well, i don’t like you either, too much to
resist: you were the first woman, laws,
that I ever kissed. the women here are
powerful, i don’t let anyone else in,
well you fucking got me—I’m zeroing in on something that goes beyond all the goals I’ve achieved; math engine coming a long, pulling a heavy train: Give me all that coal—black diamond all the same. hey, nonny, nonny, are you thinking of me? Lose a little weight . . . join the army
we’re going toward his holy light: fucking them in the ass . . . explicit language; passing one hell of a lot of gas. Dally with my money, dally with my shame: but I’m going to find a woman once I’m back in the game. Don’t think I didn’t miss it: maybe a little bit kissing ass for a whopper, talk-ing a lot of shit. that’s just me, waiting in the wings thinking how I made it this far, sounding, then, His thunderbolt.
Well, I’m still in love: what’s the irony? She’s got too much to do to fuck up her country. tie me to the mast: I hear the siren. She’s the wicked witch of the west - she knows i’m the best . . . she douses me with fire
a crucible like soul, formed between the sheets: looking for some action—real life physical action, that I can use when I’m running, my darling, a little fucking late such a job to get here—but i won’t come undone. Fantasize when I can—when it’s going somewhere great; well I’m going to you, got to go through her first; going to get there sometime—but fuck it . . . what could be worse?