Curiosity never killed anyone. Curiosity never killed anyone. Curiosity never killed anyone. Three is the perfect number. Three is the perfect number. Three is the perfect number. Dragons are slain by knights in white satin. I love that song. It was on yesterday as I was in my car. The windows were up because I have allergies. Fuck my genes. Knights in white satin/never reaching the end. And I love you/ oh how I love you. Broken skies are mended by street lights. At a certain velocity, it all looks like nothing. Color and line that hold on for the sake of image. We are only as strong as we say we are. I have a limp cock and a limp will to live. Which one will be the death of me?

Split Hairs

Man and Machine fondle each other. Oil mixes with seamen. Which floats to the top? Sometimes I say the stupidest things just to be noticed. Brunette hair that is soft to the touch. Lets stay here. If your long eyelashes flutter like that again, we could break the sound barrier. Sonic boom. Lets do it again.

Strained Cremaster

I don't know what this is supposed to do but I am treating this "blog" like a journal. I don't care if it is public. Anyone who sees it should feel like an intruder. Get out! Leave! I am not claiming to be a poet or a writer. Lately, I have been living at some incompetent level of consciousness. I don't care what someone reads or thinks, just know that I am not declaring any of these literary pieces. This is for myself, a personal stream of consciousness I can reflect on to better myself. Is all this living just dying? The paradox of life. I wish I was a nigger or a faggot, maybe I am both and I just don't know it yet.

Terracotta

We move like horizontal skyscrapers on a moonlit night. God has damned us, but I fight like Xerxes. Ulysses died in the mountains and I might as well too. War against immobility.
Words
Descend
Down
The
Page
Naked
Like
Duchamp
Slaughter preconceived notions we have tried to defend. Coca-Cola teeth and computer screen eyes. Glazed over perception. That florescent light has cut my corneas. Dead like a doornail. Dead. Like. A. Doornail. The event horizon is about 3 miles ahead of us and if we go fast enough we may just break through to about 3 years ago. When I was doing the time warp with my Latino lover. I. Want. To. Be. Anywhere. But. Here. Right. Now. Take me back to where I was father. Oblivion is smothering me as I cry out incest between Cupid and Venus. Folly, Folly, Folly.