I reach out my hand.   
I drop my pants.   
I sit upon the cold plastic,     
      and I cringe with pain,                       
                             as the fire within me                                   
                                 begins to crawl down,                                   
                                  pushing against the sides                                          
                                          of my veins.   
I can hear its growls,                  
                        as I let go of a long whimper                       
                                  that seems to go on forever.   
And after the end of time,       
         I reach out my hand again,                   
                           as I stand up and turn,         
           and I open up the floodgate,             
                and I watch the causes of my pain,                         
                                    the fruits of my anguish,
                                                                      as they break up,
                                                                                and drown.
And I smile,       
        I laugh,               
                     as I begin to wipe my ass,                                         
                                                                with subliminal angst.