I wish to run an island like the Pleasure Island of Pinocchio.
I wish to name it Babylon
and to squander the souls of a generation.
I wish to take down everything i love with avenging force
and leave it in the rubble of my own demise.
I wish to live on that island, surrounded by exotic men and expensive cocaine
and lose my mind and soul in such ungodly synchronization.
I want to watch my humanity pour from me in sweat and blood drawn out
in the divine indecencies to which mine own blackest mind wishes to succumb.
and I feel this jubilee of decadence and anarchic turpitude
beginning to encroach upon my heart
and as i open my arms to welcome this bliss of ignorance;
lavish and twisted death besmirched in the jewels and finery of carnality and excess;
I see only my God standing in the way.