I was sipping nihilistic karma from a chipped cup
on a hillside overlooking a rainy funeral dirge,
the silver trumpets blared, the dead one stared
from out of the center of the box with locks
that held his corpse in nice and tight

The rain washed over me, soaked me
as the gloomy troop marched through the slop
and the joy boys lowered the casket with clumsy speed.
My finger slipped directly against the chip, a moment of clumsy stirring
the blood mingled with the nihilistic karma
my blood mingled with the rain
and I ran to the nearest club
for a warm wet towel and a cascade of hermit vibes

I sat at the bar, and it was like Saturn,
rings of smoke swirling and twirling
with the rhythm of the chocolate clocks
Gender-fluid barflies drowning in warm wet circles
dialing up centrifugal force against the grain,
and the rain came down like rubber sheets
spilled in through a shadowy doorway,
a stranger stepped through
shook like a dog
coughed out a fog
and motioned to the nearest conflagration

I turned away and sang a song to the barfly maidens,
a song I had heard a while ago
where they buried the man so far below,
they laughed and pawed
tore the coat from my back
and I ducked away to the nearest coma,
a dirty carnival rambling rough
a hidden room way off from here
a place of stone idols bathed in the grasp
of spindly limbs blindly grasping
beneath a wet canopy of gold and green
scattered across the stratosphere

And when the midnight shook
through the glass hallways of this dream
all my hopes and desires
became breathless and tight
I wanted her below me
creamy and shocking
bellyaching in the limelight
of this nightmare life,
flicking ashes on a wet lawn
hours before
another stifling dawn,
the moon cradled in such a tilt
as I screamed out
the agony of my loving guilt.