Withholding your bloodlust, is it discipline, is it some sort of goodness, a token of respect, or is it a tantric exercise, a journey through the desert, praying for rain, days of walking the streets, empty stomach, eyes red, soul starving, only to stumble on a cupcake, you reach your hand up her skirt, and thank the heavens, god bless, I also thought this was America, live, laughing, piece of pie, for you, and you, a poet dying, churned through, blood sausage, she was pierced on the cross, and lo and behold, thirty days and thirty nights, she rose again, such a lovely feast, chicken thighs, breasts, beef and pork, fried, smoke some weed, drink a milkshake, I already died…

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