bluecityveins

a free ride inside my diseased mind.

paper cuts

paper cuts

cum shots and circus freaks.

who the hell was zorba the greek?

drunk in daytime

mid week

i have dropped off the face of worth

fell 200 hundred stories

without a single paper cut.

set up a tent in my living room

getting prepared for the  collapse

life would be better if we all lived in huts.

trying to sell art is like

giving a rock a blood transfusion

messy business

a thousand words all competing for real estate in my head

a thousand sounds from ideas dying

and left for dead

rotting and farting

their last gasps

of fruition

in my overripe

head.

jizz shots hang like icicle cave stalactites

glowing phosphorescent

in the mildew nights.

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