morning

nightmares crept under my bed, wake-eyed, keeping me nervous and jittery, all night long, all night long, children of the night (JIm Morrison's voice), children of the night, let me tell you about heartache and pain, let him tell me, lost in infinite night, riding the electric stars to the skies, i discovered the severe neurosis of the afterthought, ballooning through the asshole of the universe, through spitballs of fire, dancing the tune, dancing the tune, let me tell you about the death of God, of souls being cast in sanatoriums for what, for nonconformity and wanting to be happy, living life as homosexuals, hating the stripped down, boring life that Puritans consign us to, wanting the adventure miraculous through the endless town. i rode my harley through the night, feeling the air, feeling free and smoking a cigarette, looking at women for the first time and railing against the government, the Moloch, under the night sky with a woman i met for the first time and making love to our words, for so long, so long, our words had become pornographic, nothing being done after all, and you have to raise a stink about it each time, fuck it and throw it to the wind, and a punk rode behind me, nursing her hatred, dissing a military officer who tried to kill her cause she was going out with a chink and she says Jim Morrison is right, the blue bus of Fascism is coming to the US, drinking a Colt 45 and screaming obscenities in the air, her breasts bobbing up and down, we made love until morning when she stole my wallet and left a smiley face in the rental.