collage art by me
Like a little boy, I stand in line waiting for her to give me a shot. The boys to the back of me keep sneezing into their hands; the boys to the front of me keep waltzing ready to piss their pants. I, am dreaming, wonderful, veins presenting themselves, eager to give her satisfaction. But soon nightmares rise from the scrapyard of falling out of love, cranes dying over and over again to touch inclement rust squeezing what was, into dust under and under once and for none. Wreckage of my better half, I sit under her waist exploding. Sledgehammers to windshields, I am but a test dummy in this aerodynamic chamber where oxygen is suspended and openness is but vacuum in your sighs.
Two hundred thousand mild machine, why do you break down so easily?