My passion detonates from nowhere, it comes from my own penance,

If there were any way to beat it I would have found some harmony,

After I rous from a sleep of indulgent schemes they just repeat again and thank me dearly

So many lovely sacraments un-becoming of tranquility, cleaving my eyes out,

Once there lived a noble, residing by the sea, he dreamt of everything he was,

And all he was to be,

He became a statue utilitarian, twisted by the sea, his ribs were rapped in tourniquets,

His knees dissolved by atonement, he glowed with corporeal impulse, and it ate him away,

I follow the path of the sensual suicide, gobbling me up, in one swell foop,

Everything is throbbingly lovely; I walk the road where angels fear to tread,

How many years am I wedged into this blight, against the beautiful odds?

One moment I’m a renaissance child the next I’m drowning in connoisseur de gorgeous,

Where to go? To…Penance,

I haven’t lived enough to be that seagull that has reached nirvana,

If only I had wings of garbage that flapped and overcame my image,

My beak would knaw at my feathers that boast their genki colors,

I would die as a bird…I would die for good; I wouldn’t be that irrational soul,

I would become the Buddha.