I speak my words from the Sea of Glass
and carry a Polaroid of the world in my breast pocket
Born into poetic myth
reciting my ethereal litany
     I dream daysongs sitting at suicidal piano
     Only wanting to find a soft place to rest my head
     while I write my solemn opus
Instead I
     spend my days
needing to prove immortality through self destructive
whims,
tie woman to wet dreams,
and orchestrate the frustrations of men
Then walk home laughing through the storm
                                         to create a generation
as a megalomaniacal Lowry Hill Caesar
     with the thunder pounding rhythmic medals to 
     my nippled chest
     the rain washing away my sins of grandeur

Even God has a God complex


                                  -Dylan Wahl

                                   copyright 1994