how did it get so late, how did it ever come to this. we are perhaps the unborn children waiting in limbo forever forsworn
forsworn swarm, as teenagers swarm Dealey Plaza on the day of the dead. if you’re crying, i can’t hear you above the perturbed yawn of a hundred adolescents
tempus fugit, patrick fugit, the almost famous anonymity of a workhorse in the crudup dawn of trombipulation.
Did Nero fart in anyone’s face DeNiro fart in my face while watching the obstacle course that vague Sinead O’Connor lookalike designed or maybe she just has short hair
I coined ‘vaguey’ by accident coins course through my fingers and the universe of the virtual. it means too caressed by the definite to be merely a symbol.
one story in Astoria is worth two in the Bushwick-Aberdeen L stop (you know what they say). i’d walk five hundred Van Siclen Avenues to get to your golden triangle.