Prayer with Casual Sex

[matsunosuperfan]

Prayer with Casual Sex

Around West Hollywood, a girl can pay
ten dollars for a donut now. The gays
own everything out here: even the holes
get glazed with flower petals, edibles
of strains with names like Jizz or Cheetah Piss—
I can't live like this anymore. Today
a piece of trash wolf-whistled at my ass,
I bent over to pick it up. They say
it all works out, but I still sleep alone,
Sunday still ends with “Why?” I haven't seen
the inside of a gym or twink in weeks
and not for nothing, but my landlord's growing
overly familiar, calls me “babe”
like only Jesus needs to know my name.

[busker]

Prayer with Casual Sex

Around West Hollywood, a girl can pay
ten dollars for a donut now. The gays …. The “can” confuses me. Was it higher before? So the gays made donuts cheaper? Why? What are they doing with the donuts? Don’t tell me. Only gays? If the price was lower before and ten bucks is a lot, then the “can” isn’t needed 
own everything out here: even the holes
get glazed with flower petals, edibles
of strains with names like Jizz or Cheetah Piss— …. Nice 
I can't live like this anymore. Today
a piece of trash wolf-whistled at my ass, …. I’m confused about whether the narrator is a woman or a man, and if the matter, a gay man
I bent over to pick it up. They say … pick what up? Your ass? Trash?
it all works out, but I still sleep alone,
Sunday still ends with “Why?” I haven't seen
the inside of a gym or twink in weeks…now I think the narrator is gay
and not for nothing, but my landlord's growing
overly familiar, calls me “babe”
like only Jesus needs to know my name. … but don’t gays like that sort of thing?

The poem confuses the heck out of me but I might not be the target readership 
The tone also confuses me - is this a rant or a piss take? The humour is faint and borderline whiny

[robdaley]

Prayer with Casual Sex

Around West Hollywood, a girl can pay
ten dollars for a donut now. The gays
own everything out here: even the holes  -- the linebreak here is to suggest the gays own the holes which I think is trying to be clever in a crude way and sets up a humorous tone
get glazed with flower petals, edibles
of strains with names like Jizz or Cheetah Piss— -- more of the crude tome here
I can't live like this anymore. Today
a piece of trash wolf-whistled at my ass,
I bent over to pick it up. -- how does a bit of trash wolf-whistle?   
They say
it all works out, but I still sleep alone,
Sunday still ends with “Why?” I haven't seen
the inside of a gym or twink in weeks  -- N is lonely and inactive, possibly depressed (asking why?)
and not for nothing, but my landlord's growing
overly familiar, calls me “babe”
like only Jesus needs to know my name. 

N is disillusioned and ranting about life. But they have their faith. What is the goal of this poem, can it achieve more by commenting on society?