Aluminum Eldorado with Practical Tactile Christ.

and tap dance lightly for eternity upon the xylophone sidewalks of magnificent mansions in gated communities, with daily games of croquet played politely upon exquisitely manicured lawns along streets of holy gold.

I will play my feeble hymns upon a cheap Casio keyboard whilst floating on chiffon clouds made totally from noxious gases of God. I will perhaps pray to prostrate my terrible self, day after day, for eternity, to the World's Most Famous Jew.

Or not. I imagine preferring instead to defect in a click to oblivion anonymously on the polished grille of a speeding Peterbilt,

to obliterate instantly, entirely and mostly insignificantly.

The last pattern of Me splattering surplus molecular matter into every conceivable hole and smoke,

whilst all around the Zombies swarm/kill/die/deceive/lie/cry repetitively, and competing to be "The Most Famous Ketchup Stain on Gods Favorite Tie."

Well not I.

I prefer rather to fly high above these crude rubrics of manufactured mind-fuckery, myths and mysticism of some surreal "self" altogether.

I'd just as soon I be exhaustively dispersed into Sparkling Quarks of Fresh Oranges and River Water. Maybe into the Remarkable Cartoon Particles of Brand New Dolphins, or into the diamond sharp shards of the Cubistic arts of Jaguars.

I'd rather just diminish again silently into ingredients of Secret Sugar Frosting or carbon-based star material,

Sprinkled lightly over... Her every Morning Breakfast Cereal, forever,

into precision configurations of everything from Ice to Bamboo to Saturn.