your decay is useless

the pictures you paint with their tattered edges
the loneliest place you can find
you beg for their beauty and abandon their fears
liquidity hidden in the palms of your hands

keep promising them an existence
riddled with-
without vacancy

your broken down houses
sheds
and bedrooms
let them sleep without provoking them with your silent lens.

fancy that

today i looked over into the book the lady beside me was reading on the street car. i read only this one sentence:

"what is taking  so long Ashok, is this going to be the same as last time."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txqiwrbYGrs

zhang peng: goldfish

there is always that sweetness that grabs your entrails and drags them slowly across the linoleum. 

the manufactured face, plastic forms of grotesque internal associations.

what part of ourselves do we see here,

a subverted presence of hopeless and ruined aspiration.

a lostness 

a desire to devour and to ingest.

cheesorama

dear diary/ kristi

i think you are traumatizing the cats with your lasers.