Friday, September 23, 2022

Florescent And The Teardrop

 Florescent And The Teardrop


One man drive. Wrap my arms around loneliness. From Driver to Cradock. Potato soup for the soul, underneath the overpass where silhouettes stay still. Travesty harvest, screaming with a closed mouth. Teeth are on life support.

Cheeky window spiders. For the love of the milkman. Leave it to beaver. Drop kettle rainbow. Blow me like the wind. Scoops (big checkers)

The fake horse and carriage amongst the riff raff. Steal my cards and fight me while the neighborhood stalker drives past us.

Hide behind the swollen tree of egos and lampshades. Jump off the coconut playground bridge into the sand. Jump on top of the dugouts and yell "Fuck you! I'm on top of the world!" Ride your bike back to your trailer, racing against the rhino in the sky and racing to find the freedom of the child and adult inside of you.

Wednesday, September 14, 2022




Piss Drunk, Full Time.


"The Future Is Not What It Used To Be."

Fancy dinners while I eat gas station taquitos and fuck my own face.

Fuck all of us with a sword through our ass and out of our shit talking mouths.

I wish the grass was blue.

I wish I had more money. I wish sometimes I lived in Maine. Why do people love me so much? Why is my cholesterol so fucking high?

Wild black horses please come run over my skin and frail bones. Take me to the river and force me to get baptized so I can become happier and more defiant.

Why can't it be Christmas year round? I want to either meet Jesus Christ or meet Santa Clause or maybe even Colin Mochrie. I want to get a prostate massage while drinking a mimosa.

Liver disease lll Cum Rag Shirts lll Big Fuck. 2066 (yeah right more like) = suck my own tits. 1999 = 420 (Grover Lane)

Hold my guns while I ascend into the Cheeze Whiz sky. Make me cry. Make me lie. Live through disasters. Even though you know more are coming. Someone come sharpen my pencil... Literally.  Sharpening a pencil is like a smoke break, but I only smoke when I drink so unfortunately I feel like I should shove nine Ticonderoga pencils in my mouth and try to Nollie Hardflip down Wallenberg.

Kill your microwave.

Life is but a dream... Sweetheart.