Junkie California coastals
Fuck on the tattered up
Couch on my porch
They don’t mind the light
From my burning cigarette
Or a hand down dirty denim
While they go at it
And at it
They cry out
To an impartial
Crescent moon
Sometimes I join in
They say that’s how I became
venereal vermin
But it was me
That did it to them
I’ve collected every disease
From the five corners of the world
I wait on a throne
Of the dead proletariat
the exclusive club
of people whose
genitals share the same rot
