Pisaries Creator

A hundred dollars to sit for a minute on your crescent moon.
Pick your brain. Ask you as many questions as possible. 
There's no need to tell me your answers. I know them already.
They've been established years ago in my own working brain. 

A hundred and 99 dollars to sit for another minute of your time.
Pick your ears with my tongue. Try to find the missing ear wax.
There's probably nothing there. You must've picked it already.
Useless searching for non-existent ear wax.

A thousand dollars for a glimpse of your secret. 
It doesn't need to be a large piece but a little sliver.
Any description of the sliver will do. I'm not selective.

Ten thousand dollars to hold an inch of your soul.
I promise my fingers will not leave prints. 
My breath will not turn it ugly brown.
The original smell will remain.

Stacks of hundreds and thousands strung between clouds.
Brain matters big enough to see. Fat moons all around.
You've told me some of your answers. The ones I already know.
Riddle me anything I will recognize.

A million dollars within grasp on the cooling sun.
Safe to get close and stay for ten minutes.
Nothing wrong with random absence.