I Can't Hardly Stand It

Vingt Ans de Douleur Vingt Ans de Plaisir

Bloated and you can't touch.

Clouds written with unbearable ink

the stench of the new age

Collapsing bridges into my tangles and lighting up cigarettes made of danger and ache.

Murder

------------

(YOU CAN REATTACH A HAND CAN'T YOU?

Bisexyouall!

Hi Jenn's Mutha!

And this is where normal people shower-what the FUCK

Bullshit. Total fucking Bullshit.

GET MY PEN)

To my own true loves- i miss you so.

Synthesizer

Crazy Man

There is a rotted out couch by the side of the road where homeless men wait for the bus. Cursing and swallowing, tight throats coughing mucus into the eyes of passerby's. Frodo, forty two years old, self-named, self-taught in martial arts and the art of joke telling. He sits and drinks and whines and talks. It is not a bus stop. 

The buses drive by but never stop. The drivers shift in their seats to the mellow sing-song of monotony and Kenny Chesney scraping today's ham sandwich off the roof of their mouths with the tip of their tongues. 

There is a man in the back and he's crazy. He chants melancholy tales of deceit and betrayal, calling out government officials that don't exist. He wears a Guns and Roses shirt with a denim cap and never ties his shoes. 

He gets off the bus and bumps into a quivering hipster, who leaves his shoes untied for different reasons. "Goddam cunt city is upon us goddammit goddammit burn in hell" The crazy man cries and spits malt liquor on the ground. 

Control Yourself

We are a family of dreams and despairings. Taken too lightly.

Please, give me your second grace. Please give me a second face. I've fallen far down, the first time around, now I just sit on the ground in your way.

I've killed my world and I've killed my time.

Pendant que la marée monte
Et que chacun refait ses comptes
J'emmène au creux de mon ombre
Des poussières de toi
Le vent les portera

(Fly-Nick Drake; Strangers-the Kinks; Le Vent Nous Portera-Noir Desir)

Rock ---> Cop Car Window

St Ger, steps park courtyard hotel. searched cops rocks windows "oh, l'encule' !" rushing. driving. skidding. rubber bullet guns flashlights climbing trees no shirt two hours run run run.

I Was Hoping You Would.

Dying by the railroad tracks, colors soaking through and out dying dying clothes by the railroad tracks while nobody nobody knows.

Been there done that been there done that been there done that boring boring bored. "Im losing my miiind" sang the electric tide.

What do you do
When your friends get bored with you
And your double life as a wasteland suddenly creates you.
Penniless and tired, let your hair grow long
I was looking at you there and your face looked wrong
Memory is an echo silent song
I didn't understand

(He Doesn't Know-Fleet Foxes)

DESTROYED BY MADNESS!