I woke up inside America’s asshole. The curves of the genitals bounce and I feel them. Cry. No cry. I lick the squirrel’s tail with the leopard skin and howl at the Sunlight ripping me apart and sunglasses don’t help except if I let them but I don’t let them. I just sit and cry. No cry. Juggernauts of fur fall from the clear blue ceiling painted for you before you left me for a better Country.
Constipated America has me trapped. Anxiety and Seroquelian dreams. I’ll take my rest and panic anywhere I can get it. Pills. No more pills please!! I wait patiently for an answer. A fart. A rumble. Something. You. Sorry, no visitors up here down there. I’m tender and cold. I light a match to America’s colon only to see more darkness. Oh I wish I had a Magic 8 Ball. Medium. Ghost hunter. A smoke. Candy.
Drip, drip oh dearest America. I hear what’s going on outside this infernal sphincter of yours and laugh and cry. No cry. I’ll just sit and wait.