Velvet Elvis

Pipe dreams echoing
in the dimly lit corridors of my brain
like beams that go in every direction
toward the sun
where the fountains are
that shine in the pitch black empty hell
between my ears
that something seems to push me onward
down the hall to where the fountains are

I don't want to be your Velvet Elvis
I don't want to shine your plastic shoes
I don't want to be your glass chimpanzee
I don't want to be anything you use

no

My plastic hell (that shines in the pitch black)
My plastic hell