Let the babble stop
Let the brain farts cease
Let pleasure be your guide
And the poet slip into their persona,
Like a performance uniform,
A slip dress
An existential throw up of thoughts like
Bad Chinese food.
The kind that climbs out of Tupperware,
slippers ready

Of Tupperware and ready slippers
***** out takeaway rice.
Performance uniforms sit up in bed,
Babbling about existential poets.
The bad Chinese food
Waltzes with its guide,
Brain dribbles out of nostrils.
Dear night-shoes,
This babble has ceased,
Pleasurely.

I need you to be my morning, afternoon & evening reality
Just like my early rise coffee
I need to start my days with you
I need you that necessarily & sweetened slightly
Licking my lips of your cream
Take you down willfully with five more shots of you in between
Come afternoon, I’ll sip on you during lunch
Sting the tip of my tongue
Your steam which adds to my fiend
Dark & pleasurely
Because you don’t forget a burn like that easily
No matter how good it feels to squirm & scream
And you are just like I dreamed
When in the evening I’m finally downing my last gulp of you
I hold you in tightly to ready you for tomorrow morning’s brew