Burnout

"All right, kids, let's hop on the e-ride."
And I bend and groan like a brontosaur.
I'm burnt out, for real, for sure.
No more okama Scheherezade,
twirling my veils
and spinning tales
with my Absalom-smokey
glass bubble pipe.
No more gaslighting, guys,
no more voices,
no more twists and turns.
No more hot potato talks.
It's time to go kids.
With not one more silhouette
will I shadow-box.

Auf wiedersehen, adieu.
Au revoir, Pee Wee.
Adieu to you and you.