oblique evenings explain the ribald path of my fire, burning through city and country alike and indifferent and all a means to some end that cannot be immediately identified, i watch the slow drip of kidney expulsion and kind eyed acceptance, a cycle of passage, this moment through to the beginning of the next. whiskey…

burn a mutherfucker down, burn to stay alive, burn complete, burn alive and every breath i breathe is borrowed, an accrual of bad debt that i will not return until it is forced from my lungs in a harrowed gasp, a struck chord, a vibrating string that will disappear when it ceases to move. it…

sway, in the morning and in the evening, swing from side to side like some aimless paraclete, mingle and mutter among the mattress people, sober up and do it again. feel it in your blood and in your bones, through your fingers some reverb from the soul, good whiskey and white water and the air…

i cannot exist, adequately, in the company of the earth. i fail to adhere to this, completely, a mutant of normal human behavior. i am the only one, i am the only one and the letters fall from my fingers in great suicides, preferring the end over any thing that i may offer. i float…