I was smoking Jesus in the public park, waiting for midnight, half past four AM.
I was burning up two sticks at the same time, the smoke rising to meet the moon, night after night, till the waking nightmares would stop and be replaced by insanity.
Canada was sad, and Mexico was dead, the United States was not united anymore.
It seemed dead, but trying to pretend it was still breathing, moving towards a common goal but just falling off the high cliff, half past noon, it would finally look in the mirror just as its nose fell off and disappeared into the sea foam.
Was California still a state when it fell off into the ocean?
I believe it was but who knew it would fall off like that and become an island out there, the beach bums waving and cheering as the politicians drowned.
Or was that Washington, DC?
It may have been.
Kansas decided to run off into space, to become a country on the moon.
I was still smoking sticks of peppermint, waiting for a dream.
Damn those dreams.
Damn them all.
Sexy dreams are the worst.
You think you're going to get something and you don't, except a communist pamphlet, stating,
"There is no sex in this dream!!! Capitalist lies!!!"
Was I dreaming as I was walking down the street the other night?
Maybe I was....
God was on a bus heading towards the horizon.
He was reading a book by some guy named Mary.
"Mind fucked by Jesus? Who thinks this shit up?"
The children were eating beef stew that wasn't beef, but other children who were naughty and their parents couldn't take it anymore.
"Could use some salt!" one said to the other as the rest went out to play in the streets.
The dream stopped then fast forwarded to the end, where the bomb was dropped.
The children screamed, the women fainted, the men cried, and in the end, it didn't matter.
"Sing!!" the director screamed.
Nobody wanted to sing.
We all just sat there, waiting for our lobotomy.
The machine kept turning, Charlie Chaplin was still being dragged through the gears, trying to tune it to a modern time.
The Hell of the Bible was replaced by a street crime, a child killed.
The phone rang.
Then her soul dies, her body moving but her mind gone.
Blackness traps us.
We give up but keep moving forward.
Where was the modern times?
The mad men went on to become our leaders, as it always was, as it would always be.
Jazz band kept playing as I smoked my last stick, Jesus died on the cross for somebody's sin but not mine.
I wondered why he died, cause people still sinning, sucking, fucking, rolling in the hay, machine keep turning out sinners, synners, drop dead gorgeous beautiful people who reproduced ugly children by the thousands.
The world keeps spinning, the sun devours, even as we die, leaving whatever we leave, the fates of our children is dust...