I wave my right to a speedy trial
if you ever catch me scouring the want ads
for Hitler Youth leftovers
decades in hiding
to fill the ranks of my Deutschland über Alles
choir group
and accompany me on weekend getaways.
   
The same goes for cutting bible study cheese
with a corrugated dildo
from the library of Congress
or wearing something see through
to the National Institute for the Blind.
   
If I fart    
and ask you to look and see what colour the smoke is
to determine if they have chosen a new pope,
the choice between lethal injection
and the chair

is yours.

I know for a fact
that there is no such thing as due process
and the right to legal representation
for half the things
I do.

The last time I was entitled to one phone call
I crank called a nursing home
and had thirty pizzas with three toppings
delivered to the dementia ward

during pill pass.

I will never be what you want me
to be.

You may as well
kill me now.