i have known many hands too small to hold love's absence

please do everything while i'm not looking

the air cannot tell

how do you deal with the smell of your own rotting flesh?

I skunk fly through pussy heavily nights and cities I don’t care to remember looking for trouble I can grasp but barely handle all I want is trouble, I’m knee-deep in something Hispanic, Mediterranean, ebony French— Pepé Le Pew, je vis pour le funk hardcore, je mourrai pour le funk

Every room feels like Texas.

tourists

the shape of my head gives off the impression that I know something

the educated swamp consumes the goose's waist

as i am as limp as empty