breif moment of sanity

there's a fat guy in a striped green shirt on the tv right now

as the mauraders rampage through my town,

and in between buckets of water

i toss in vain at my cottage of sticks and grass,

on very special occassions

that should be marked somewhere within the spectrum

of a national holiday and spilling some malt liquor on the curb

I can imagine a world not far removed

from my own great purgatory

where there is a lonely sofa waiting unattended

in front of a warmed up HD television.

There are cheetos and chips fried in lard

just waiting to dance on the tastebuds

of whatever fat juggernaut finds his way

to this new Eden.

What folly it is

to shun a world of vagrancy and sloth

for this new idea of diligence and shaving

more than once a week.

A place where it's not acceptable

to have shots of whiskey for breakfast

or partake in autoerotic exfixiation

at the drop of the proverbial hat,

i like to imagine a black derby

because it's the most distinguished.

Alas, to always look on the side

least shrouded in darkness,

and the prayer the gods may grant

that as the world around me

plummets into fire and ash

one of the cummly lasses running past

will have her blouse ripped off,

thus exposing some pleasing respite

in the midst of my kingdom of s**t

where only the flies are kings.