Do we ever really mean it
with temper stripping us down to our most
animalist
sadistic
I did not mean that, poem of mine I showed you last night
what read simply bled
Last night, contemplating accidental mescaline trips
loves
loss
life death
becoming master of this illusion
We are the generation which creates itself
I am my years in Chongqing
Where my heart heeded me not court the innocent
Chinese
beautiful
flower of a ******
My heart could not resist the fling
Monster
Foreigner
Devil
Oh! How my tormented conscious screams!

I am
my months
In Greifswald
Moin
Moin Moin
out back of Mensa Club
my head met an angry boot
thud
I let out my cruddy caterwall
*****
*******
****
******
Come here I will ******* **** you!
I am held back from further humiliation by the furer followers taken for my stitches.
made a scene at the police station.
I get what I deserve in my American varsity jacket I stole from my father, vintage. I was an easy target it is not far fetched I get a blitzkrieg on my head.

I am my posh time in London
In Hampstead I swirl sangria
discussion David Downs and
which works are his strongest
In Chelsea I walk around
boxer shorts and pajama bottoms
getting k-holed with the
bottom feeders all ****** on
frosty jacks

7 a.m.

I am ready for heaven
my world swings before me,
swaying... silently.
A dead man hangs
swoosh swoosh
falling
from the gallows