Still around somehow.

You're down when they walk by.
Skulking like crimson.
On your rug.
Treacherous.
So vulnerable.
What a position.
Crying for death.
Seeing what could be seen.
The scene so meloncholy.
But we laughed.
Spitting Pneumonia in noire.
Leaving all things heavy.
N blowin in the wind.


Garrett Johnson.

Magazines and other Accusations.

He spits.
N then you run.
You say hello t the crow.
He hands you a towel.
T wipe the coal away.
Swaying.
He sings.
Your dead.
You’ve read.
Yr sad in yr bed.
But you kick.
N you squirm.
Shouting out that your done.
A turquoise girl appears.
Handing advice out on note cards.
Stuffing them n Your pocket.
You walk away.



Garrett Johnson.