My comfort is a TV commercial
where my brain is an egg
cracked open upon a hot oily frying pan
because deep down inside,
I want me on that pan,
I need me on that pan.

And now I feel joy cooking my mind like an egg,
pumping, like the sun sets, up and down.
And now Dave looks like his name is Niagara,
H₂O instead of human being,
on a journey down low and lower.

Though the pounding of my heart can't last long,
these munchees can, like an itch on my sole.
So I'll head out to Larry's Cookie.
My heart is pounding
like the heart of a horny boy
with a hard-on
because I crave snickerdoodle
topped with sweet, colorful sprinkles.
Rainbow, baby.
The store smells like butter.

With my cookie, I snuff the fire that is my craving
then go home and play some foosball with Dave.
His men move in the most peculiar way
as if their little brains are on drugs.
Yellow pills for speed.
Dave's fast five line slides the ball to the three
then goal, ten times on me.

Damn it Dave!
Next time, I get the speed.