Silver net of souls

the filiaments of the sun's rays
so softly netted her nude body, a lady
with a mind of her own
the warbling of birds in the night
keened to a scorching pitch,
olalacities of surpleasing moans...

there was a silence
which the nightgale beats
drinking the blood of the heart,
in the deadliest strokes of night
thus the thread of poetry...
thus my mind was lost
the wine had lost its taste
but her face.

I tried to enjoy the party,
but heavy grew my heart
and of course I had to pee
and of course I had to pee.

I felt like I was looking at a Orientalist painting,
I had grown so weary of parties,
all these Americans getting drunk,
getting high and passing out...
Christians too, I must remark,
and they told me I was funny as hell
but I certainly did not want to join the party.

I just acted funny because they were such hypocrites
but that's ok. I'm gonna be one too.
I can proud of my medicority.

it's gonna be all right as long as I can walk home.