The Regular

The first place I
would travel to
when I croak
is the bar.

I'd plant myself
on a stool
at 6 am
and stay
till the end of
eternity.

Time
would mean
nothing
to me.

Neither would money.

I guess,
booze too.

I'd just sit there
and soak up
everybody's
last bit
of energy,
until I had enough
to manifest
right before
their blood shot eyes,
behind the bar,
naked,
with my balls
cooling
on the limes
and the tap
of the finest beer
right in
my butt cheeks.

Fellas,
this round's
on me.