What I want
I want to live simply – i want the truth to be simple, uncomplicated by agenda and design. I want a dog who is happy. i want a robot who is happy. I want cops to stop shooting people.
Poetry
long street at six am
french songs pervade the corner,a back-lit Everything machinederives a conscience from culture:the guilt of beer and sinlost the appeal to anesthetic, foisted upon the naive, the fatuously innocent.the bold wipe tearswhile the weak bloom shamesneaking hands into pocketsbetween hookah tokes.the dreaded love from whoreswon decisively over the comfortof familiar disdainuntil the sublime machinationsAddiction’s contortionscould settle … Read morelong street at six am
Whore Magazine #3 … get ready
Whore Magazine 3 is here!
bothering truth
I remember being on the phone with her, knowing she had a little cock inside her; The breathing gave it away. She said, “… Please be True.” it was ok. There was a blonde rubbing my cock, whispering a mantra, “put it in my ass, put it in my ass.” I didn’t bother asking her … Read morebothering truth
Blick
Boulevard Papers are the truth to the overly Cultured. They describe a lost faith in Royalty and the Worthlessness of being alive. Our great culture of Free Press provides the Truth.
Rape Tax
The tax man wants to rape me. I offered to let him fuck me, but they insisted, Rape is the Only way.
In the Morning
In the morning I’ll be gone. Not a trace to be found. I’ll be a dream of New Orleans, I’ll be a memory of Mississippi. No Finger Prints, No Hairs disappear… I’ll be gone in the Morning.
leaving for Resentment
It’s awkward now watching resentment grow like weeds in the Abandoned Garden of Eden. Green & poisonous, Serrated edges stinking its defense, These are the weeds that only 100 years can force into the background. In 100 years, we’ll have a new forest, but the garden we cleared, used up for our failed humanity, is … Read moreleaving for Resentment
untitled no. 764
We’ll see how the fireflies flash, two if by sea, none if the heart is dead. Patriots of hearts, take heart, Your Pride was lost long ago, now we fight for vestigial appendages. Wait Boys, Wait… let us watch the fireflies to know if we fight or die.
Waiting on a Super Nova
smoking cigarettes until late in the night, imagining dizziness in fingers. I came home to nothingness, ghost parades, victim’s medals settling into the morass of meaningless existence, but existence, still. They crowded around, full of intimacy, full of expectations: desperation of another sort – the kind that causes cancers. I said, “Let’s knock the table … Read moreWaiting on a Super Nova