  Tonight, at all costs, I will find the right words. I will transform this humble computer into a metaphysical grinding stone. I will put my hands to this wheel and spray words like sparks from this keyboard. At all costs, this room will rain verbal fire from the ceiling. At all costs, I will make it rain perfect points of light in here tonight. Tonight the walls will be painted with the shadows of ancient tribal dancers. Tonight my roommates will crouch in awe on the other side of my door, peeking through the keyhole at my madness. No matter what, tonight they will believe me finally, they will believe this madman, this awful scientist. Tonight they will have to wear welding masks to enter this room. It will be a swirling mass of stars in the air above this carpet tonight.
Tonight, at all costs, no matter what. I will become possessed by this art. My eyes will roll back to glowing white bulbs, my lips will turn blue and recoil from my terrible gnashing teeth.. Tonight my arms will give off smoke from working these keys. Tonight I will find the right words. But first… I need a beer. (To warm me up) I summon the ghost of Johnny Walker. Show yourself Nny! (Can I call you Nny? ) It’s a full moon tonight, and I’m mad because this world doesn’t howl anymore. Howl with me Nny. I demand the fetid corpse of Captain Morgan push his way through the floorboards.
That’s right, tonight being a ghastly heap of rotting pirate bones is de rigueur, as they say in the malodorous brothels of New Orleans. It’s ok padre. Come forth, cancer-ridden femur of the late great Bob Marley. Hop into this room like the frenetic pogo stick that you are. I will imbibe your Lethean doses… I’ll drink venom from a King Cobra tonight. Tonight, I am a whirling dervish, a gasoline soaked monk, that inexplicable toaster teetering on the ledge above the bathtub that mother washes baby in.
To see me tonight, will be like watching a train wreck on the back of a spoon. You’re all going to have to see this. and now, again, but this time in jive: Tonight, at all costs, I will find da damn right words. I will transform dis humble doodad into some metaphysical grindin' stone. Ah be baaad... I will put mah hands t' dis wheel an' spray words likes sparks from dis keybo'd. At all costs, dis room will rain verbal fire from da ceilin'. At all costs, I will make it rain puh'fect points o' light in in da house tonight. Tonight da damn walls will be painted wit' da damn shadows o'ancient tribal danca's. Tonight mah roommates will crouch in awe on da otha' side o' mah do', peekin' through da damn keyhole at mah madness. No matta'whut, tonight they will recon' me final-like, they will recon' dis madman, dis awful scientist. Tonight they will got'ta waih' weldin' masks t'enta' dis room. It will be some swirlin' mass o' stars in da air above dis carpettonight.
Step up. Tonight, at all costs, no matta' whut. I will become possessed by dis art. Mah eyes will roll back t' glowin' pale bulbs, mah lips will turn blue an' recoil from mah terrible gnashin' teet'.. Tonight mah arms will give off puff from workin' dese-he'ah keys. Tonight I will find da damn right words. But fust… I need some 40. (down low, T' warm me down) I summon da ghost o' Johnny W. Show yourself Nny!
(down low, Kin I call yo' ass Nny? ) It’s some full moon tonight, an' I’m mad becuz dis world doesn’t howl anymo'. Howl wit' me Nny. I demand da damn fetid corpse o' Captain Morgan push wassups way through da damn flo'bo'ds. Dat’s right, tonight bein' some ghast-like haip o' rottin' pirate bones be de rigueur, as they say in da malodorous brothels o' Fresh Orlains.
It’s ok padre.
Come fort',canca'-ridden femur o' da damn late great Bob Marley. Hop into dis room likes da frenetic pogo stick dat yo' ass be.
I will imbibe yo' Lethain doses… I’ll drink venom from some Kin' Cobra tonight. Tonight, I be some whirlin' dervish, some gasoline soaked monk, dat inexplicable toasta' teeterin' on da ledge above da damn bathtub dat mama washes 'espense in. T' spot me tonight, will be likes watchin' some train wreck on da back o' some spoon. 'S all good. Yo' ass’re all fixin' ta spot dis. 
