

For GeorgeSentenced in a motel for a smile or a few bucks, George got addicted. With one count of conspiracy to traffic in death, Joan had a grin for cocaine but she had no words for a friend.For George
He wound up drinking at an east-end motel. After drinking and snorting, he was left in the injured bathroom, tied up. A maid found his body in the morning, causes of death pooling under his head, hooked on friends who just wanted his dollar.


HousesYour mind is a predictable spider. Choke out the lights, close the door. It's not your body.Houses
You've landed somewhere strange. The animal hum of your own house; its TV, its heating, its electricity, its gasoline; throbs in your veins. The toilet flushes, the phone rings, the fridge turns on. You're playing a folk music album in the living room. The electrical pulse thudding in so fast it becomes one sick distended syllable. Shell it all in with saxaphone moans and the silence of the radio. With shingles and heating bills. The voice of your father battering at the door, asking if everything's alright. Guitar tremors sweep through


second lawthe round warm corpse of the sun hovers like spectral nonsense: the incantations your computer spits out when addition fails and something else takes over - an emissary of senseless superhuman gibberish driving out pages of strange characters not to be seen in the rigours of alphabets.second law
like this the sun hangs, unsummoned and bizarre, theatrical and stupid: the bathroom tap dripping until doomsday an army of cars revving their engines energy emptying like a smashed champagne glass dismantling itself into shards and a stain.
this is the lack


untitled.charcoal gathering wood the sununtitled.
the way everything starts and falls apart as lonesome
but this
a gravel driveway spiders the smell of thunder tigerlilies lips
this is the fulcrum
all but the act?
some other halflife shimmering as something either a memory or an anticipation
serving as a shell for pepper faced clergymen who only know to track the movements of the sun
or the shotgun
of some fire-eyed mystic wh
Devious Comments
-I- only have a deviantart account to look at the pr0n.
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