"OCD with Scarlet Tics"
On New Year's Eve, at the descent of the Times Square Ball among the Big Apple,
If the mental imagery is macabre--I use Jack Daniel's to spike my peach tea Snapple,
Having a one year ruination by way of inheriting weird, telepathic saturation;
Next, to possibly blurt out profane utterance, considered freakish, even in a 1st Amendment Nation;
Thus, I strip to slick bikini and let the boys offer a stare,
Knowing: be myself, and chill the hot visions with a coolly remembered icy glare.
