What are you doing tonight? Are you
holding a cracked glass to your lips
or are you holding a snake in your scarred arms?
Do you wonder why your opheus-idiot
doesn’t understand the gold theory?
It tastes like death
just like my own mirror image
in which I chew gum and am almost a god
with photographs of smiles from the underground.
Do you wonder why your orpheus kisser is so pale?
Why your scrawny Orpheus has sugar
on his body? Why he drives a car from Japan
I mean the museum of degenerate art
art that degenerates the body like TB.
TB ruins the gold theory like Art.
I have gold in my temples when I assemble dolls
from yellow plastic hose material.
Together with my friend from the Orient
I hate pigs. I hate in my art in my slaughter,
in my luxurious slang.

Originally published in White Wall Review 40 (2016)