A Modern Lunch

Jesus accepted all-  even the addict and the whore; 'yay verily', he even took them greater into his breast than the pious and the just, for in their delirium, renouncing all earthly things, they came closer to the Lord than any man had ever recourse to know.

A tribute to Burroughs:

I drink the extracted black liquid of the Java bean for breakfast on a crestfallen Monday afternoon: there is no reasoning behind this day and no desire pulls me in any direction but the urge to smoke and obliviate myself. The urge to toilet raises me from death-sleep, though I try to postpone from it as long as I can, short of pissing myself. I am on the drive to destruction- a burning car plummeting down a dead road at night, lit up only by stars and kept hot by its own exothermic reaction
"Hurrah for energy!"
"Watch, now, as I make myself disappear..."
Hear the sound of the great, white, wail as man bends towards his own end;
"Tharr she blows"- man makes mass squeals pumped full of ego-ridden amphetamines, "watch the showers approaching overhead," advice for those, to be taken, who insist on living ruthlessly.
I reel from another biscuit as visions of grandmothers come at me, apprehending with trays full of 'sweet-treats' you just can't eat. Sickness invades the human stomach and makes 'ass-souls' expand like colonialism. I hear the howl of a painted white plane overhead and wonder if it ever read the words of Ginsberg. How long have I felt like a "junky" now? My body's whole sequence of events indirectly affected by undigested chemicals within. Beauty is skin-deep; I dream of tattooed girls and shark attacks; Shaved heads like a crying singer- Nothin' compares 2 U- text speak like a baby, the way she does, will I go the way of all things?
Plunged down the eternal world of the mouth to be shit out safely on the other side. Fenrir, the wolf-mother finds me washed up drunk on the planes of Tartarus, another jumbled, fading, soul with a mouthful of spit and gristled flesh ripped by bear (trap) teeth from my belly as I prepare to bear all unbearable burdens and 'bare' all at once to be bent over and fucked by the next constitutional climax of my life-
"Paid your tax? Paid your bills? WHO ARE YOU?!"
A man with no name leaves no trace as he passes, wind that leaves an acrid, airy, smell that dissolves the hairs of the nose until another hair-brained scheme is concocted to trap the 'invisible man' who is so insensitive to light that he emits no sound as it pulls right through him, penetrated like a bullet tweased right out of the exit-wound by steadfast, surgical hands. "No need for a rhinoplasty; he knows which way to go"
"Twease me baby, shine a little light on me."