I am going to rub a magic potion into my skin

&

I am going to gyrate with a magic lamp

&

I am going to take it all back to the deserts Jesus wandered prophesying on the lost people who birth lost generations who are found in dusty warehouses in major cities where revolution is bred from dust particles…

As if I have fallen, flew, waken, clawed up a cliff before the dream shuts my heavy lids.

As if you can shrink down, glowing worm like, crying love versions as I slide myself down your throat.

I am going to blow you

&

I am going to shock your mind

&

I am going to move us with fantastical love…

As if the audience tells you it is impossible.

As if everyone tonight is happy making someone smile as they light their smoke.