The whores made beans with bacon
In the motel.
We kept moving
And watched the TV.
As long as it was free.
Your soul calls you to walk.
Your soul calls you to fight in heaven.
For your soul
Look to your reflection in the dying eyes
of your lover.
Take up the passion and die in a spent heap
of hedonism and hopelessness.
I will my body to science.
I expect TV News to keep up with its dismemberment.