screaming at low volumes
jgtaylor there are Fuckers out there that are stealing tears. They go around looking for the saddest bad-off wretched bastards, and they collect their tears like a milk maid takes the cow’s milk from her child. We don’t think our tears important, in fact, we are embarrassed by them. But once they’re stolen, we learn their … Read moreHow To Keep Your Tears
Three Ugly Cunts digging around in full wallets to provide a pittance to beggars. So proud of themselves, grinning, as thought it were a test. the high is ruined by these Cunts, so disconnected that it is a story and not a life.
the drunken rejection so flaccid and shallow just the head? fight or fuck it’s where we’re at. such cultural exclusivity… Fight or Fuck.
Delta between loves, theta is its angles; Reciprocity is an Absolute Proof
i often wonder if i am too filed with rage in and out a pulsing energy i wonder sometimes where it comes from and all the answers elude me as though i were clever but they were more so heart pounding shattering and shaking earth quakes and volcanoes until it super novas judged without seeing … Read moreRage #4
it’s too big. the wrong size for such devilish delights; reserved for the undeserving. Humiliation at every turn for debasing desires, preserved for the undeserving.
The ride to the psycho ward took eternities. I napped. When I got there, I looked for cigarettes. No one had any cigarettes – it was late, everyone was in bed. I found the ashtrays in the smoking room. There were 4 half smoked butts. I pulled them out, smoked each one with long drags, … Read moreThe Nut House
great poetry, so was von gestern. heute gibt’s menu: eins oder zwei wenn eins, bekommst du wenn zwei, kommst du; in aus rein raus I used to write great poetry. ich sorgte mich um posterity. für was? Der Drücker ist gestorben; long live the printer. hier ist gestorben; ein Trauerfeir jeden Nacht zu oft draussen, … Read moreKoennte Schlimmer Sein
“You gotta write your way out.” “The only way out is through.” dear diary, shit’s gotten fucked up, i can’t remember if I was playing and forgot to say just kidding, but now i’m on pills for reals… i’m seeing 6 doctors and doing insane asylums like i’m on tour; the crazies are the only … Read moreMore Fear Than Passion
were it not for the crying – always at midnight – i might sleep soundly. but the grief at the dying day interrupts dreams, denies comfort, evacuates breath, for we do not know if the sun will rise tomorrow.