dreaming the death of a pervert

death was in the
men’s room reading

as i dreamt of
my dead self lying

on the cold white
porcelain floor

as the water runs
from the open faucet

my faded khaki pants
down below my knees

and cum all over the
pearly white bowl

and the employees
rush on to see

leaving their tables
flooded with phone calls

with the receptionist
almost fainting

our janitor screaming
” dead ‘ in bangla

the bosses sneezing
glued on sales figures

together with the others
I will look at myself

laughing and say,
” what a way to go ! ”

then i’ll wash and dry my
hands and drink some water

and walk back to my table
and continue threading

between hard life, sudden
death and lucid dreams

and make damn sure of
feeding the green machine.

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