Adam’s Chains

I cannot see the day That you will be free I can only see The chains that you strain Against your willingness To grow out of past lives. I can’t tell their strength But i see them in all their glorious grey down pulling sadness. To know each kiss Is as each bird’s breath Brought … Read moreAdam’s Chains

Travel Log

June 6th, 2003 Mama put your ass against the window. Baby blow a kiss across my nose. Sister let the heat settle for a minute. Honey, stop over for a fuck or a blow. Lady, I’ll smoke with you the pleasures of the body, If you’ll chew with me on the meat of our souls. … Read moreTravel Log

God Was A Junkie

He awoke with a sweat, Jesus wasn’t up yet. But the angels blew their horns In defiant display. God was sick on that day. Achin’ for the fix he needed so bad, God reached for the rig he kept in his bag – An old crucifix with a needle at the feet – Plunging down … Read moreGod Was A Junkie

Catholics

I’m not really sure what it is about catholics that I don’t like, but it’s something, that’s for sure. I don’t like the way they stand up and sit down and kneel and stand up and kneel; it’s just so confusing. I don’t like the way the priest walks around with the incense and mumbles things in other languages. If what he had to say was so important, he could speak up and talk in English. I just don’t like ‘em. They can all go and sit on the biggest toilet in the whole world and flush themselves into their own confessional of hatred and guilt.

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Untitled

Man works his fingers till they bleed, tryin’ to provide for his seed.But it doesn’t matter because the worlds a mad hatterand nothing seems to make sensethey were lies about the white picket fence.And we all bought it, at least I didPreachin’ it to me since I was a kid.Pearly whites will get the chick, … Read moreUntitled

Untitled

All of them have eyes, all of them have bodies; Empty shells for erotic pleasure, singlulary naughty. “Caution” – a value I’ve never learned “Fidelity” – only recently took hold. meaningless pleasure is not pleasure at all, but tales of pain untold.

Soapbox Artist: collecting art & literature of the worst kind