begushkin.

mark a scratch when a bitch-wolf howls
on its back, its barmy jowls
breathing bite,
and I rub your belly too

and when nightly things arise
and flinting are your painted eyes,
I'll make a mess when I'm inside of you.

just trying to find the right mixture of light fixtures and exra-large windows of opportunity.

"I've always longed for a knife, a blade to lay bare my entrails, set my brain and heart free. A sharp blade that would scrape away all uncleanliness. Then, the so-called spirit would rise up from this meaningless carcass." -- The Magician.

distance.

There are women on the street.
They shine before me like teeth in a mine.

But the conversation is like the beating
taken in a dream,
where no real blows are landed.
The only harm is in memory.

All these moments have passed through me,
I have turned them all to waste.

haters be hatin.

it makes me wanna throw up
when whack rappers show up
it makes me wonder if and when they're ever gonna grow up.

I'd rather go to the ballet,
give the keys to the vallet
and rendez-vous for the weekend at the challet.

Litany.

We are two abysses -- a well staring at the sky. (Pessoa, Book of the Disquiet.)

some things last a long time.

Your picture is still on my wall.
The colors are bright
as ever.