I want

to be the best, the top of the mountain shiny stuff, Gandhi, Superman, Jesus, Martin Luther King, all knowing, all goodness, all eyes shivering all before me, revolution on a fucking stick, everyone basking in my heat death.

I want. I want to

retire, retreat and take shelter from the horrifying shapes, in the country, in the wilderness, in a cabin, taking care of my own, not telling anyone, with wife, with baby, with no one watching. I want the quiet life.

I want. I also want

unguarded sex with every single being I encounter, heightened physical activity, every situation turned into an oh yeah flow of sensual peaks, I want to try all flavours, all the varieties and die with maximum gift points on my life card. I want all sexes, no sexes, non-binary, the world is one, the world is many, the infinite difference, twenty different people at once, a crowd in a single body, but I want stability, the mortgage, the knowing what I’m coming home to.

I want. I also want

the fireplace, the furniture. I want none of this, I don’t want any of it, I want to be a pony, I want to be a gentle pony so I can stamp on the heads of mine enemies. I want nothing more than the bare essentials, the land and me working as a team to get the best out of each other.

I want. I want

to grow like a flower to my tallest point. I want to be a mutant flower than can get up and walk about and tickle the armpits of the unsuspecting. I want to be a dog, simple, carefree, pleasure in sniffing an arse, chasing the ball, over and over and over and over and over and over and over.

But I want. I want

to be busy, to have all the things to do, to learn, to invest, to organise my daily betterment, to run the errands, to make walking productive, but I want to amble aimlessly, to walk in the parks, to sit by a lake and not think of a thing, to lay in bed, eat ice cream with you, watch the latest series, all the while thinking I want to be out there, over there, around the world, on time, good job, what a result, we did well, let’s celebrate, all the stimulus to make endeavour sit still, cocaine or red bull, no difference, coffee is more a daytime thing, but sometimes I want it.

I want it at night. I want

the buzz so I can stare midnight in the eyes and growl and push on into the future and meet myself serenading the Prime Minister with guts of the dead. I want the image, the eternal image, at arms length, out of reach, I want to grow and make it mine, envelope it, get lost in it, but it disappears, upon sight, upon touch, up on high, the image, of the sexual partner, of the dream job, of me as me can be, of a better world, of freedom, the image, I want, I don’t want, I want, I don’t want to want anymore, but I still want, I want. I want.

I want and want and want.
I want and want.
I want and want and want.
Until I…