Mother Orphan

what do I need?
 I need a dark Gothic poet light worker
 a yoga witch, a vegan butcher
 
what do I need?
 I need a psychotically enlightened Buddhist pagan
 
a Jewish sinner, a satanic saint, A crucified porn star
 a sharp clawed masseuse
 
what do I need?
 I need an argument with a loving conclusion
expressed with dishes and baseball bats
 
I need a box of condoms and a stack of quarters
a beeper, and the number 1984 on the calendar
 
I need to be Rumi to a whore
Bukowski to a nun
 
what do I need?
I need demon music with no tone, no chords,
no arrangement, and tons of money
I need an angel on a pole
 
I want to be pay for the right to be left alone
I want to beg to shut up and do what I’m told
 
I want to be fined for being too fine with the
fact that she’s so fine I could never find another
one of her. Except in the dirt. Under the grass and
on top of the rocks. Where the worms dig long
and phallic
for filth.
 
What do I need?
 
I need fruity pebbles to turn my shit green,
so I can say, hey baby,
the fruity pebbles turned my shit green 
 
I want to play dress up with a devil as my barbie doll
and I want her to eat raw foods, both fruit and flesh
and I want her to spit blood that spells out poems
across the scars of the sidewalks
 
I want her full of cupid cum and goblin cotton
I want her full of the anger only passion can sustain
I want her full of the complacency only pills can deliver
I want her to smoke pure oxygen
I want her to bleed distilled water
I want no fluoride in her eyes
I want no civilization in her vagina
I want nothing in her but nothing
and I want nothing to stop
that I have nothing but her
 
I want her to be all that I never had
 
till I let her go