THE HEART OF THE LIGHTSABER THE CRYSTAL IS

The heart of the lightsaber the crystal is
Imbued with a force through cogitation
Without this attunement obscure we are
Disposable shafts of superheated plasma
Promptly assembled to look like a president
Pink cock jizzing out a set of pipe dreams
Every mental state borne aloft by nothing
Finer than a thought thinking itself valid
Projects the densest cloud of self-delusion
Which too shall pass with a little attention
But not today the first of another year
Today I am working very hard at keeping
These thoughts smouldering smouldering
Like an old-fashioned smoke machine
Fed on some feathersticks of desires
A few dandelion clocks of self-deception
And a fat spark or two of displeasure
Flayed from a blade struck against black
Rods of ferrocerium igniting four decades
Worth of toxic sap and softwood tinder.