Savant Trigger

you don't have to have a house, you don't need a black bag, or a brick in the bag, you don't need a cat, a dog, a hand, a tongue, you don't need a file-folder, you don't need diction, you don't need a hose nor hosiery, nor horses, nor whores, not bedvisions, not crotch haikus, you don't need bleary-eyed menders, you don't need chicken tenders, not traffic cones or stones or bones or semi-, whole-, or quarter-tones, you don't need different books about different things, not stretched-out shirtless women nor scratchy silent men, you don't need to hope or mope or soap-on-a-rope, you don't need I need you, nor a hand on every arm, you don't need rockets or lockets or eyes for your sockets, not the thumbs of Christ or the masturbations of Peter, you don't need to speak or swallow, to download or upgrade, you don't need to taste the deposits on the underside of Portland, you don't need a song, a bong, a king for your kong, to write every wrong, there's no need to worry and worry, or to sleep beneath the awning, where a liturgy of fingers strum the vespers of the night...