Saturday, June 18, 2011


What time is it? Jesus...
I can't tell and tho the
light's off I see
everything like shit
's still in the toilet and this
last beer tastes like I'm only
trying to finish it to sleep and
is that all I am container for
poisonous gases liquefied, how
I've forgotten to write anything
but the truth that burns
magnesium bright in tonight,
or wherever whichever how I am
an estranged idiot who works best
as holy spectre, respected only
because I'm never seen walking alone,
I'd drop my head to the sound of roving
cars outsidebeside wide open sky
blue blue fireball ozone thrill, Me
I've many miles to bleed for the horizon
all lonely skeleton x-rayed paradise perspective
like my little boy stoner voice
bewitched bewitching fucked

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