Fantasy Poem by Patrick Kaszinski

I struggle against temperate, vicarious,
bi-curious bikers leaning against erect statuettes of covered in semen and lye,
with the matte finish of degrading copper.
Risky husks of carcasses carry straight laced cutlasses
for new age penetration.
And only for sixteen innovative sex positions involving a blowtorch,
industrial grade.
Psychedelic titter-totter charms into chloroform stained wristwatches
and LSD.
I'm watching tarnished licks of sedative
taken 3000mg per dosage.
All while the night is young, vibrant and a-light
with risqué encounters by subway turnstiles
and the incessant twanging of rife, roofie small talk
between two parts stereo boom.