Hey Reader: Turns out Art has DID, did you know?

Hey, want to have sex? Sorry, I’m done for the day.
Just punched out? It’s all done with.
Tomorrow? I’ll schedule you in.
Life as a gigolo is hard. I’m a writer too.
Well, it’s the same thing.
God, my poetry has won me nothing.
Wait a second, where’s God? He got lost a couple hundred years ago.
I saw him taking a left back there. Saw some heathens.
He’s a good one, that guy. But my parents would freak.
Guess who’s coming to dinner? God!
Mary, have you thought about this? Did you hear what he did to Job?
I’ve heard he’s a bit demanding. Fine, I’ll get a gerbil.
Is this a poem? Scatter, blather, dither.
Of course. This is a great poem. Success!
I exist within the text, to lurk in the corners of words,
To emerge in a hypothetical mind.
The secret to life
Is in Finnegan’s Wake. As well as how to make a hydrogen bomb.
Grunts went to sounds went to words went to text went to complexity went to
SIGHT CHANGES. If I see something, what do I see? Collections of thoughts.
Atoms are embedded within me. Oh and everything else too.
Hey, want to just have sex?