Propulsion, speed, Opera
Bowling down the road in sleepless coattails
And the same gloves you slept in –
What a gorilla, devoid of inspiration
Wallowing in howling sin, desperate as a star
Ready to supernova. Arrested for jaywalking
And screaming at the police for offences
Mismanaged. Work in the morning,
Sad wailing musical pipe dream romance –
Stale coffee. Dreams written as tattoos.
Every eye is on you like Apollo: a crumbling obelisk
Cursing to the dirt, asking the earth
“Why aren’t I rich yet?” – Some kind of prayer.