Once upon a time my name Was bloodlust, And in its Stygian fury I came Like thermonuclear landscaping.
I became that furnace Into which all Bad ideas are tossed, and which Generates the white hot, Ghost hound heat To fuel a motor, To fill a peoplesβ festering maw, Their yawning, gurgling need For macabre dances, And human plane crashes.
It went like that for uncounted eons, Only mentioned in bleakly Humorous passing, And spoken by dry tongues, and Unbrushed teeth.
I danced, and crashed, and Held court on Hellβs balcony While the sun shed morning blood, Again and again. All the while, black smoke built up like Silt on the popcorn ceiling. That **** ceiling, which dropped Little dreams and teasers on the carpet To be pried out by desperate fingers Which only proved themselves to be plaster After I had snorted them. That **** ceiling.
The audience, for being so large, was so quiet Biting their knuckles, and waiting, breathless For the final blitzkrieg that would have rendered my Poland A cratered waste. I did not want to disappoint, crawling like a pig Sniffing, searching, sweating, and Not wanting to let them down.