Here's a stream I wrote:

My teeth are burningas I clamp down on something coarser than sand, yet more fluid than water, until an icy cool sensation drips down from my prefrontal cortex to my spine and the fire fills into my throat, heightening an awareness of the gravity of this situation I’ve got myself into, and I realize that there is a river in my head that is overflowing in a nectarous flood, dousing my mind’s eye with sweetness, except it’s the kind of sweetness you only find in the box of artificial sugars at that two bit hole in the wall they call an ego, though instead of filling any sort of real desire they just serve to make you crave the real thing even more because you only know enough to know you’re missing out on a treat far more plentiful and delicious while the bloodless gurus shout that this is all it takes to satisfy you, just let it all in and that chemically induced coma you’re entering is really nirvana and not some cock shit half life cooked up in a corporate kitchen, but despite the ache in my belly from faking even I can tell that there is something more, something real worth fighting for and that I’ll never feel happy as long as I keep sitting around drinking from their rusty faucet that has became my path to pleasure, so I’ll gather my wits, bite hard and shove myself all out saying, “Fuck you world, and fuck your menial attempts at meaning, I never really liked you in the first place,” and take the first step toward molding this crackpot theory into something I can hold, pouring all my mental projections and doubts into this film canister destined to be burned on the unmarked trail to the pinnacle of my existence so that I can show you sick mother fuckers that I’ve been playing this game for the sheer joy it brings me and because I might just have something that you don’t have, the kind of thing you can’t manufacture or produce or get anywhere, the kind of thing that no matter how you’ve constructed your life you’ll fall into a pit of sameness where everyone tries to be different in the same way, not understanding the transcendental purpose for which your life truly is, while I have become nothing but what I have always been, grasping a lens that can pull into this world that which no one else can: it is pure, unadulterated, overwhelming, all-fulfilling, indefinable Beauty, the kind I could never in a million years explain but only show you through a sincerely unique adventure through the depths of consciousness that some people call

Love.

Thoughts?
Should I read it at a poetry slam? (never done it before)