Been gone a long time.
Didn't even check the site for months.
Think I'm back again.
We'll see.


sycophant.sycophant
and you come.
trailing ash, porcelain jaw,
batting genderbending eyes.
all cool whip and cotton
candy vendor
hawking the goods.
leave hacked up from mossy lungs,
your mercury creeping cloud become my thread-barren clothes
clove cigarettes to mask the scent of death,
{ pet locust to see your reflection in multifaceted eyes
teeth yellowed under glow of paper lanterns,
bleed dim like the asphyxiation  


more than compelled.The brother of Able wanders sold soiled streets, spits clichés of bacon bourgeoismore than compelled.
from vantage of highchair sneers silver spooned, but never with woman or tied stings to doorknobs to pull any teeth.
Did time with the boys as a bottom bunk bride,
zebra stripped black/white black/white
the type that disenchanted
leaves feet planted in quicksand formaldehyde
jekyll never knew
no better fresh from bloated stash, faked cash advances for &nb


Centigrade. hammocked in Celsius heat mosquitoes make love to me, bare feet tender from kicking graveled green glassCentigrade
moonlight incites, turns tides to nymphs’ beckoning glances and samba sashays, seduces sweat from the brow and inflames the inside, teases thirst from the throat, afloat on and coated
in pheromones I glide towards prophetic [lips,
talk circles that prosthetic hips’ sway
won’t imitate–
-till soft stupored from lime-wedged sips and sincerest teeth gri


Untitled -1Art is in Observation-Creation Destruction-Reconstruction Carefully rehearsed symphonies Gleefully mistaken for what they aren't And someday may be.Untitled -1
Street photographers
Making love to the pavement under their feet, Tilting and shaking Under the pounding tread Of their subjects.
Weekend warriors, Bashing their colored water Onto the paper, slashing strokes Brush at the ready Alert eyes on guard for
The next scene.
Rejoice and celebrate! Wild abandon runs through your veins, Still lives and bowls of app
Bluebird

Closed Park, Monday nightClosed park, Monday night, 3am. It's been a long day for me. I'm sure you know this, Not like I was home for dinner. Or when you went to bed.Closed Park, Monday night
Heading home, Concord Road, 2:45am. Ozzy is on the radio, Proclaiming the end of crying. Mist is rising from the road, Blurring the lines and edges, Generally making things difficult. I think about how I left you, My only presence in your bed A kiss and a hug on the way out.
It's a pretty screwed up world, If you think about it. I'm not saying that my happiness Is more important then the n
--
My main account & My stock account
--
Just be yourself everything else - if its meant to be - will fall into place
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free your mind and your ass will follow
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