the winning pastiche

we need a fast-god
to take on the go
to dance and fuck
and fool the woe. 

rusty guitar strings
for old sounds in
dj sets and tainted
fries under
ragged sheets.

a body of faith
twitching and the
ashes falling like
butterflies. the
wondrous money
of despair:
coins and papers,
and a tasty love
of addiction that
comes with
crayons to colour
a rotten heart.
a rotten belief.
 

fast love on
a slow car
and a fake name
on a cheap bar 

downtown.
a sarcastic kidney
on democratic
madness.

electric poverty
for a smile.