your chrome skin dictates a more delicate touch, something only native elements possess, wind and fire and water, the breath of the evening, the tips of my fingers interrupting the moonlight shore of your flesh. your hips are something else altogether that i cannot coherently discuss, it becomes a mess of words and sounds and…

i am not shel silverstein, i’m just some asshole with a pen. i drink and i judge, those are my two things; drinking, and judging. the order is not entirely necessary but the former typically precludes the latter. i stand just slightly outside of everything and attempt to capture the whirring maelstrom of color and…

it moves along like a highway cut through this american heart over miles of native blood and ignorance to a beating mecca, a conglomerate of coca-cola signs and mcdonald’s arches, idiot monsters in orbit with fat eyes and wet lips ejaculating in a mass frenzy before miles of television sets all filled with kfc commercials,…

i explode like phenomena, i am ignition and thereafter fire, i am a madhouse on your street where criminals and creeps reside. your eyes still possess a tranquil necessity and i am here burning, burning, weaving flame and sound together in some abstract delirium waiting for the day to pass. i am surrounded by the…

everything was so loud and so dark, so fast and angry, upsetting down to the material of things, a constant stutter and yammer, back and forth, this and this, me and you, darkness and smoke and madness. never ending this struggle, it became then an exercise in the pitfalls of morality, the fucking brown spots…

repetition, repetition, repetition, repetition, faucet drip insomnia, electric hum and the blue arc of death, poor choices and slow egress, emergence from this dark corner, hunger and delirium, headaches, pornography, hubris and defecation. bones popping and skin scratching, yellow pills of comfort, of denial and acceptance, dark hour destitution, bare walls and empty pockets, echoes…

as if the night were composed of your thoughts i stretch out into its vastness with a hunger like saharan lions, gripping the throat of it between my jaws to keep it from escaping into day. teeming amid the clamor of so many endless others i roar to elevate my presence, to fix your fear…

i accept what i wish to accept and condemn that which i do not; your presence in this world is circumspect and based solely on my allowing it to exist, otherwise you are merely a rumor, someone’s memory of someone who does not fit into my historical judgment of things. everything is at my discretion,…