hot and sweet cold and feign. does it grow when it should? does it wear a hood(y)? if so we better watch it closely. watch it for the tell tale signs: the sag, the widgets cleverly hidden, the lost expression.
i saw a sag today oh boy.
those tacky britches done hit the floor.
and though the lad was rather gaunt
well i just had to shunt
up that bony back
and down his concave, rib-stave front!
He’d love to turrrrrnnnnn mmmmmmeeeeeeee onnnnnnnnnnnnnn.
turn me on dead man… turn me on dead man.
B.O.I. = Bacteria, Opioids and Infection.
on second thought, no thanks.
this great state capital is a black top burner. shooting happened yesterday. some dumb shit tried to rob a MEGABUS (almost wrote NEGABUS) with a water gun the police had to shoot him with they real gunz. bomb scar bomb scar- block off the road.
shit on the shingles.
poop duo sing for some poop dip on their Pringles.
it’s more fun than you expected, more smoke for your expectorant.
do oh. poop do oh. yeah… baby.
yes. this town smells like shit.
and French fries and dead bodies. I can tell I’m home by the smell. It’s convenient.
turgid heat layin’ round the pool. a walrus, a billy goat and an underwear model walk into a bath house…
it’s a wet heat. sho nuff n yes it is. count it off, now. the lunacy of summer in the city. hot in the city hot in the city tonight. billy idol knew what it meant. it got so hot, he punched his girl in the face, i guess. i had a billy idol calendar in 1986. i beat-off looking at it more than once.
the male gaze. the male gays. the gay maze. the maize haze that hangs over a broiling city; the clothes are comin’ off. SKUNZA is here… the grossness of another ozone age summer in our ozone percolator. we are bubblin’. soon it will be MORTUS ORGIASTICUS… and we’ll do what ever the time dictates.
maybe just hide.
live. it is time to live. not i- me. no time like the presence of mind. it’s all at the mall. whatever you need you can find it there. let’s all go to the strip mall letsallgotothestripmall?
i’m watching them all day, every day. i am tryin’ to write it all down, but there’s so much something’s bound to get missed. i’m scribin’ ezz fas’ as i kin.
puff puff pass out.
smoothie. a nice dinner.
it’s time for some Grove City Crotchgrabbers to land on the lawn. they in season here wit’ they pants round they ankles. tattooed n tore up fum the floor up. yeah… go on and tear up the floors, too… what the fuck?
bike too small.
a stall too tall.
is there such a thing?