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The cold moons kill us as the hawks glide and foxes dig out remains in rusted tin garbage can chain gang bangs. She sits in a room ablaze torching kingdom heathen spreading the maze and diseased spread legged soft core, purple constricted foreskin spray vomit. Jump off cliffs in the crystal light of a dying evening that suffocates the waves enlighten fuck, fight, kill me over and over. A dog in heat, breast meat, milktit and one-eyed bestiality madness. I am fondled and she is sucking me dry now so it is copacetic. Wax burn red marked encased bodies lining the dirt road, cow infested, one drinkin’ hole pitched tent wave parade. I don’t see the sun. It blinds and fucks my head, burning light skull fucking socket lunch.

Aren’t we powerful? NO. Let’s start a fight, let’s plan a murder, let’s start a religion, let’s take over and end the pain. Begin again. Something stinks in this room, feces floating rubber love doll bounce, sink the folk art Rembrandts and decaying cunt funnel in tin secretion pales. Drink up, it’s a long journey.

Watching the snakes pour out of my eyes in the rear view reflection of Ray Bans and the stained glass shards stuck in my arms. They all look folded to me, bodies asleep.



"Smelling the Scent of Death Like a Dog on the Oregon Trail"
2010