Loyalty, TX
Gimme a face transplant, punked out
fucking beautiful, the peace of the wild because
my whole life has been training for this
mosh pit. Make me your launchpad of
destiny and kick my head on the way
in, your stage dive of faith in the afterlife.
Bumble bee in the desert, flow on sharp things,
a donkey stuck in the mud where it died.
These three feet chasms left over from
exceptional weather: all seats taken.
I am the last robot left on Earth, a half
formed plan. There's no one around to celebrate
my accomplishments, so I get my rub on
strangers, without words. It's physical
brain trauma and the unbearable pain of
every sneeze.