To Dream As Gods Do

your suicide warden
garnished in chains
inspects your arsehole
where morning has fled
your pot hole eyes peering
through a lysergic purge
witness only the contents
of your dingy abode
which encapsulates the wearying
trinkets of monstrous dalliances
and licentious attacks
of falsified intentions
these are the things you’ll remember
during those lonely repasts
of quaaludes and hard liquor
green tea and ground glass
.
you learned to sleep in shallow latrines
on egyptian cotton and busted bed springs
gazing up at refracted reflections
in cracked ceiling mirrors
where decades of hope
disappeared in a murmur
to dissolve and fade like baby aspirin
.
your aged gigolos and mutant dandies
dopes on the ropes fighting losing battles
are smudged entries in last year’s diary
so your electric wire and phony smile
seemed like your last best defence
in a life grown cold
from hustling for change
and god knows you need a change
there’s one more hit left in the locker
so lay back and relax to dream as gods do
.