Sinking in iodine With sagging eyes. Floating in valium shackles, Preion capsules; Child-proof With cotton roofs. Plastic enclosures Housing our lovers, Our mediocre tablets Spilling over the cabinets And everything''s over. Leaning against, The lazy-suzan spins, Bright colors of sweet, Fatty condiments. Sinking, crying, singing In my lazy-corner The war lords Of plastic orange bottles Take over my body; Nothing will stop me, My blood hits the throttle.