Tying the pimp in dreams to a lamppost 
His tuxedo wet with wheedled kisses, can 
I wake up sucking the footprints of toilets 
In jails that glitter like crash-dived marquees.

A dog appears in call letters on my skin. 
Twin worlds, who exchange threats via scoreboard
I rival this night, this fight to the death 
With enough leftover, ooze for twosies yet.

Either even, I wish I could put on take off
My clothes without first saying to my cock
"Excuse me, is this yours," while the stars

The collected no-shows of eternity, rise. 
Hey, remember the way painters gauge perspective?
Me, I cut the thumb off and throw it at stuff.