The crowd Climaxed When my foot penetrated The celebrity meat Part of me disappearing Into the coils of our inanimate savior He couldn’t eat any other way And they couldn’t too Feeding from my Bloated boot treads Because It hung In front of thrusting tongues Indifferent of shit filled crevice They sought So long as it spun in a dying microwave And reached vague warmth To the sound of an insect orgasm

We won that year Our prize was a lifetime of regret Our Las Vegas residency was quiet alcoholism Our legacy leaked from our wounds And into the easy chairs of an entire nation They said it was the best season yet