I am the ashtray of existence,
Incessant ashen grind.
Judge, Jury and Executioner;
a stylized portrait of Lucifer,
troubadour on an animate shelf,
wave crested by immolation
Indictment of dirt and gravel.
By the power vested in me
I’ll never bring my head down from these ecstasy-laden clouds.
Day in, day out
languishing in cylical
fear and wonder and doubt,
scream or kick or shout
I ponder the thunder
just beyond the breach in my coal-stained essence;
yes I am the ashtray of existence
but they’re smoking technicolored