falling down the streets,
a genius in his own right
getting high off posies and life
with scars on his ankles and swollen feet,
a carbon-copy oedipal complex
and he's drooling into the sex on the beach on the bar
ogling countless dolls and damsels he'd like to
rescue and ravage and never call back
even under the pink and starry sky
the thought of love entangles his organs and
thrusts him into a sandy saltwater grave
though he still takes for granted
the donations, hearts he's won, cut out and
sold for cheap on the black market.