I’m looking for some glue,
but all the tubes are empty.
In the kitchen, aerosol cans
hiss and try to tempt me.
I’ve stolen vodka from next door.
I’ve smoked a pipe of stems.
I feel like meaning’s matador.
I need some M&M’s.
If I were in Ecuador,
I could just eat some plants.
I’ve even heard there are some
hallucinogenic ants.
I’ll eat lead paint,
I’ll swail, I’ll faint.
I’m looking for a noose.
But now my stomach hurts
and I’m afraid my bowel’s loose.