As I pack for my move to Chicago, I come across various writings...some more embarrassing than others. Here's a couple:
the heat of the garage in the summer
swells things to globes
and blisters wet drops into lesions.
he told me how he did it:
speak that metal,
tell that heat it's fake - not real
and that it's about to be turned into money.
easy, right?
who's the one fucking sweating?
Orbit [8.10.08]
you have the power to disrupt dreams
and move planets.
did you know it?
jumps that cannot be made without you
lie in pause,
blinking and fuzzy.
can they be made?
and this body, cut open, is dying
and heaving.
your touch would seal the wound
and enflame the heart.
so why aren't you?
where have you been?
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