greg comes down. he stills lives with his mother at 52,
and is perpetually clutching a coors banquet in his left hand, and his pinky is contorted in a grotesque fashion. his eyes are black without expression, and everything he says is sincere, but laughs at innapropriate times.
He helps us dig the ditch for the bones of the dog in the backyard,
it died when it was attacked by the Great Dane which was subsequently euthanized. He had the idea to put the carcass in a trash bag and now it stunk and the body was a frothing mess of decay.
We laid the bag in as he ****** on his coors banquet.
"GOD REST ITS SOUL"
he said.
we said a prayer; it seemed appropriate. and after the dog was buried, he got in his car, totally drunk and drove back to his mamas.
The stereo blasted Pink Floyd "Wish you were here" on vinyl, and it happened to be 2am. Someone puked on the floor and I promptly went to bed whilst someone ****** in the kitchen. I don't know how I got there, but I was spoonfed yogurt in the night while some random girl ****** me off. good dreams, and hot nights. my shoes sat in the corner staring at the sin. & I made sure to say goodnight     in the morning
as I drove off to Los alisos on the corner of Jeronimo and El toro

flies bite me and you,
your body like a slab of ivory
I never wanted to eat ***** more than when I saw your pink and succulent ****; I tongued it as long as I could.  & you smelled like tangerines and berries, but
watching you try on those cute yet gaudy outfits aroused me the most; the fact you trusted my input.
& you shampooing that dark black hair in the tub with the door open, I never saw a greater contrast between light and dark.
I almost felt love,
I almost felt good in this daydream town- as though astrology was real ,  
   and I hung on to your every word like a happy fool, devoid of
    sorrow--- just awaiting a kiss from your lips,
cherry red

go into debt & be free
slave for a goal, like hardwares and cynics turning coins down by a crumbling and filthy street
today is a good to waste, like forever, and all the days after.
don't be afraid to
             fail

Threw my phone against the wall and it shattered in a million pieces. then I threw the rest in the pond and let the frogs eat the battery and SIM card. You can have it; & I've never slept better. I even read a ******* book.  That's different - & I didn't even miss
anyone -- in fact I realized how much I hated being available to everyone and anyone at all hours. but I don't mind the dark-
it's nice and cool here

this is my therapy moreso than music. I can say what I want -- I'm not confined to a melody , or attached to any notes-
it's free form. it's its own music and has its own dance; I can laugh,
and cry,
and scream, and say how it really is-- and it's really great;
  really great , and doesn't have to be that grand. There doesn't need to  be a big crescendo.
just soaking up the sun with an empty glass in the dull noon is sometimes enough

this is one of those no-hesitation days, seeping with sorrow and ache and gloomy sadness.
If you had a 12 gauge by your bedside you'd understand what I mean by no-hesitation

a dead mangled up bobcat with its head sqaushed in and brains seeping out of its eye in a patch of dirt on the mossy hill,

The bones will be clean within a week. Death doesn't care, we just get in the way