I find myself in th same damn places....
con quien puedo hablar?

me siento un triste.

muy desesperdo.

entiendes.

quien me quiere oir?

me siento feliz cuando ago cosas

some time in september
It’s late nite at a Jazz Club
but that’s not why I’m tired
I don’t sleep at night
but that ain’t it either.
Drinkin bourbon wears me out
but Love has tired me out.

I wait for my medicine to kick in.
The harsh morning light condemns us.
I miss dirt
under my fingernails,
clothes sweat through
worn through
I miss paint on my hands,
shot glasses being passed down
poetry on my lips.

So, I describe the hardest hours.
It’s robust, it’s live, it’s a dare,
a song, a lullaby.

A choice is put on my night stand everyday;
eat me, drink me, sleep me, love me.

12.11.07
120p
of all the things you didn’t say
some were more painful to not hear.

A relationship of negative zone interactions.

3 blackholes trying to fill each other up
with drugs and booze and fucking,
and beautiful lies.

right now it’s bright and icy outside
but mebbe it’s warm and stars are out
maybe it’s a beachtown
all of the pretty girls have painted toes and flip flops

elbows on sidewalks,
back seat cab rides,
stagelights, shitty boxers, rotting teeth, a sloppy dick
and great fucking sex with psycho fucking exes.

12.2.07
237AM
fuckin alcoholic fingers and bloodshot eyes
engorged nose
NOT COCK
limp dick
Whiskey was the murderer.

bar room provacation
midnite inspiration
the southern it comforts
head pounding, hungover, I'm thirsty
it's times like these
I walk the crippled city.
.................................
bumper stickers
declare my loyalty