there is seemingly no point to my existence now is there

slumber only gives way to inebriation

which turns into belligerence and perfunctory loneliness

i suck nature through a pipe

and max my lungs on red hair

there is no darwinian reason for my continuation to bear

sleep only brings about eventual realization

which in turn breeds my brain into illegal intoxication 

i blow rapture through the pigs device

as my lungs long for red hair

oh yes, she had ginger hair

and the most obscenely delightful polish nose

and breasts the equal of Clive Staples Lewis prose

only she was jewish

and petite

and had the most symmetrical feet

with painted digital red nails

and the manner of a florence nightingale

with the dedication of a young henry hill

she wiped her nose on my sleeve

and buried her love in my pile of pills

**** ****…****-**** **** ****

she hard core **** yours truly

even though I lassoed the moon like george bailey

for the lump left on her noggin she obeyed me

for the junk in her trunk she blamed me

for the delusions of her faith she enraged me

for the lack of love in her heart she caged me

for the eventual bump in her stomach she enslaved me