Maybe if I hate enoughrat-faced man yellow and drawn long yellow fingers, long yellow yawnreaches for unfamiliar spaces sweaty ideas of greatnessthe unsuccessful lover winding downatrophied ass, skinny bowed legs,sickly bulging belly, shoulders childlike and narrowa defeated posture infused with hate cast a weak tea shadowsabotaging fate: a new idea for each new moment(we could be famous... we could make a million bucks)seals them in dirty envelopes to fall through the greasy gratea gutter by the darkness where nothing really takes shapeplagiarizing ouroboros believing his own liesat his core a sinister emptiness, so appealingto the alternative strata of the trendy elitewho have forgotten their true natureas the abused dog forgets how to be a doghe was attracted to my wound, my beautiful malfunctionbut when I was resolved he couldn't be contactedman of straw in a house of cards waiting to faila child inside a man inside a disease, vampiric and shiningoiling his trap, an ugly broken outdat
richards legAn honest pilot through the mirror's mirror. You leave no stain except the one you wish to make. Electrons follow you around to set you alight at the dead of night. Salivation brings the devout to the endless spittle spout.Painting with blood on the stucco wall a saint appears wearing a bra.