By the time I get to Vegas

Silk  and sulk     and crows   hugging the succulents   like the white kids in the back of the bus  on the way reciting Dr. Dre’s Song of Innocence     with us budging and crushing the black Klimt    our lovers in a pool of blood and cheetos salt    and hot wanting to know more I am becoming more   a gambler a door of flutes and navy defectors and Gustav I  can taste the gold and mauve idea today I can scalp  our wu-tang tickets and give the proceeds to facebook in exchange   for my name back flush with the needles of lean and limb/black    do you remember the day he smashed the butterfly?