30/30 four eighteen

Its a lonely city
filling in holes
the buildings are phallic
light pollution
so much dumping
at my feet
I kick it a long
a couple blocks
then get on the bus
to the post office
send directions home
to my apartment
where i feel
more blue more deep
than the Willamette river
eroding shores
humanity is as bland
as the desert
a wasteland

Your apocalypse
is my vacation
i'm bigger then
King Kong
the Big Pink
has a cock ring on
and I sit right down
itching my pubes
with the rubbing
one or two flutter
down on the city

What are we here for
if not to make
changes to disrupt
the silence, sing and
fart and leap
off buildings
make up superheros
because the truth is
our significance
and attraction
all prescribed

Society has decided
what kind of woman
I am