Monday, March 19, 2012

psychotic explosions of the boorish pixelation

i wrote this for the insanely sexy genius who kept almost killing me or sending me to the ER so nonchalantly that it was always amazing to recognize his brutality: he was perfectly aware of his own strength.

he was perfectly built and quite literally four feet from shoulder to shoulder; his ams were easily eighteen inches around: he had the perfect tiny amount of fat so nothing veined or cracked mussels. i found him perversely attractive.

he made me laugh. i loved every las twisted drop of gallows humor--

--until it was too much, and too much it was.

predicting the mess he couldn't contain (like i really would've lasted with a man who bragged about his stint in jail), i contained it within...

Galactic Pollution: Soho at Twilight

the billboards along Canal could poke an eye out
with how big they say to love.
the way the billboards leap from their sticky backing
will never prove us enough
so ill-lodged are they 'twixt heaven and pedestrian
as blustering through the tuff
we scuttle pedestrian as ants down the sidewalk
too burdened to glance above.


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