"The elderly, ill, and unwanted"
Bring Chief Mojo Rising organic tobacco
To saturate his breathing organs; next, soul-laced smoke rises to the Big Show;
Then, Inflammatory Bowel Disease cannot easily resist remission,
And accepting a cancerous fate becomes, maybe yes or no, my decision;
Regardless, I was infused by scarlet life, having bled out,
And my nurse says: "If I lose control of my bowels--I want death--no doubt."
Does she not know how to fight a poor person's plight?
The Otherworld pulling my spirit between this day or the Dark Night--
Yup, Otherworld tarantulas I do witness crawling on my bedroom floor--
Feminine aspects telling me to web and craft words some more;
Moreover, exploding diarrhea ten times a bloody day,
Making boys laugh at my shameful sickness--they say I deserve this corporeal dismay,
But they are not gods nor Transfigured,
Only arrogant souls not knowing that God has reconfigured;
Next, they selfishly pray for their sick mothers to die with a weeping sigh
Because of laziness and the Prince of this World forging the Ultimate Lie;
Alas, I'm unable to gel socially or enter a workplace;
Therefore, they call my dualistic suffering a lazy disgrace,
But tumors will rise on their unwanted parts--like a scrotum,
Putting, possibly, their humility on an Earthly Totem--
Life is over in the blink of an eye;
Then, the Otherworld births everything, and does stupefy.
So with moist tears I wash my soiled panties,
Taking care of Mom and invoking gravy-making grannies,
Knowing: Suicide decided by me
Might offer escape from the Adversary's victory;
Specifically, I know where to go and what to do--
Into the Virgin's entrails where Truth transcends humanity's phony clue;
Hence, beware of your bravado, believing only YOU are right;
The Multiverse is greater and more super-infinite than both day and night.
