Two hundred singing crickets walk into a bar. The bartender looks up and sees me holding an empty paper bag.
It’s hard to make the wrong choice when you’re already at the bottom of the well. The answer is always the same.
I’m just lucky, drop me unequipped in the desert and I’ll find a glass bottle filled with drinking water. They said it was a fluke and sent me back out.
When I didn’t come back they went looking, to find me sitting in the mist of a waterfall that sprang from rocks and disappeared into the sand.
The Sunset Strip is the west coast version of Times Square. I like to drop acid, bum cigarettes and wander at the fringe until things get greasy. And things always get greasy on the street. Then it’s time to head for the hills and hang at the pool parties with rich kids.
It’s all moveable scenery for a one shot take that never ends, nobody’s homeless and nobody ever goes home.
And just because I hitchhike doesn't mean I’m working. A lot of kids do that, but that’s not me. Sometimes people have a hard time accepting that and then it gets sticky when I get out of the car.
So far nobody’s tried to murder me in the back of a van.
I don’t know if that’s lucky or I just know better than to get in a fucking van with strangers.
It’s all part of my metamorphosis from cockroach to poet. I’m stealing their lives, their anxious chatter, their memories and their nervous ticks. It’s all just food in a bag for later.
I’m a mental and physical refugee trying to escape my birth. Always pounding on the door of a home that was never there.
I didn’t know my mother was quoting Lenny Bruce at me. No wonder my teachers are having such a hard time. Context is context, and in hindsight it was properly applied.
Now I want to go down to the sea and build a castle where I can bury my belly in the sand and wait to see what crabs are born.
I love a good April Fools but I didn’t know crickets could eat paper. Back at the pet store I buy some predatory vermin.
A scorpion a centipede and a spider walk into a bar. The bartender looks up and sees me holding another empty bag and says, “I hope you realize that none of this is in the least bit funny”
It’s hard to make the wrong choice when you’re already at the bottom of the well. The answer is always the same.
I’m just lucky, drop me unequipped in the desert and I’ll find a glass bottle filled with drinking water. They said it was a fluke and sent me back out.
When I didn’t come back they went looking, to find me sitting in the mist of a waterfall that sprang from rocks and disappeared into the sand.
The Sunset Strip is the west coast version of Times Square. I like to drop acid, bum cigarettes and wander at the fringe until things get greasy. And things always get greasy on the street. Then it’s time to head for the hills and hang at the pool parties with rich kids.
It’s all moveable scenery for a one shot take that never ends, nobody’s homeless and nobody ever goes home.
And just because I hitchhike doesn't mean I’m working. A lot of kids do that, but that’s not me. Sometimes people have a hard time accepting that and then it gets sticky when I get out of the car.
So far nobody’s tried to murder me in the back of a van.
I don’t know if that’s lucky or I just know better than to get in a fucking van with strangers.
It’s all part of my metamorphosis from cockroach to poet. I’m stealing their lives, their anxious chatter, their memories and their nervous ticks. It’s all just food in a bag for later.
I’m a mental and physical refugee trying to escape my birth. Always pounding on the door of a home that was never there.
I didn’t know my mother was quoting Lenny Bruce at me. No wonder my teachers are having such a hard time. Context is context, and in hindsight it was properly applied.
Now I want to go down to the sea and build a castle where I can bury my belly in the sand and wait to see what crabs are born.
I love a good April Fools but I didn’t know crickets could eat paper. Back at the pet store I buy some predatory vermin.
A scorpion a centipede and a spider walk into a bar. The bartender looks up and sees me holding another empty bag and says, “I hope you realize that none of this is in the least bit funny”
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