She likes it deep.
She likes it analog.
Ink stains on
sheets of paper.
Wipe away the mess
Your USB keys
will not survive
the coming apocalypse.
Nothing to plug into.
You might as well
be writing on
The dubious stain of our existence.
Rotting beneath a languid sun we are as junkies on the nod…dozing…eyes half-shut.
And the sound of waves in the distance. Pulsating rhythm keeping time with each heartbeat. You can feel it in your ears. The hand of God moves gently across the water.
Crystalline blue ocean mother nature. Geologic masterpiece of space and time.
Green-hued pelicans swoop [...]
Yellow parasols. “Sol” umbrellas and beach chairs. Rhythmic sound of waves lapping the shore beneath a Carribean sun.
There goes a yacht. Here comes another. Tourists and honeymooners. Old-timers idly wasting away pensions. Sand like baby powder between the toes. It gets everywhere.
These are a few of the things I know. Today.
It is not possible to look the Devil in the eye while pretending to be a saint. He recognizes one of his own. It’s best to look away.
The only true road is the one we must all travel alone. You won’t find it on any map.
my attraction to those things that are vacant, abandoned, or desolate cannot be explained.
I don’t wanna go where the cool people are. I wanna go where the real people are. Or nothingness. Gutter drunk and shoeless.
Spending too much time pondering my other lives in parallel universes, but that doesn’t pay the mortgage. Damn you, real universe!
Your Spanish channel has subtitles? Mine only has midgets and strippers and guys in cowboy hats trying to sell me cars.
When considering humanity, it’s important to consider the entire stinking mass as a whole, from the dumbfucks to the geniuses. And then grade ‘em on a curve.