Saint Peter

I am crying oil
for my little girl
take me down and roll me in tar
the tar made of oil
make me dance under
sparkled light
beneath the globe
the polyester's oil
fill my tank and spank me twice
make 'em know that I am wrong
spread my right to left
cast me in a cancer mold
of cankerous folds
strip me down to what I was
and make me picnic with enemies
I want no
day
hour
minute
or phase
of ten million blinks
within the graze of
two hundred men
screaming that
I suck
I am better than that
all I want is the gaze of my seed
with splendor found
in night's darkness