Why do you allow it to dominate the brain,
This feeling things have come to roost, right here and now?
Like a writer out of style, steep yourself in porno,
Morbidly refining what hardly seems worthwhile;
The sad sperm swimming through a current that is hostile.
By the sacred beard of that opening from which all coming came,
Liberate your gaze from the consequence of pain,
Since before you grew to be a mujahidin you were a sex addict,
Watching the Christians fuck. Forget you are a bomb.
Escape into the bed where bad is merely puerile.
Gather rosebuds while ye may, log on to a site;
Make a profit, seek a pleasure. Buy a wench and bang her.
Lubricate your flight from the consequence of gain
In a realm removed from where things are just bad:
The fresh waves fearing that their journey will be futile.