Wednesday, March 24, 2010


These creatures
digressing the city until dawn
creating their own realities because
they cannot face the ones they have
the city is their photobooth
they roam in the floodlights and dark places.
calling themselves ‘the untamed youth.’

The city is your photobooth.
Object children
Laying on pavements in pools
of their own fluid
Symmetrical fringes and scar bangs.
blissfully unaware of their idiocy.
Baring their fangs.

Hungry for the fame
But not hungry enough grow out our skinnies
Hallowed be our sins.
Generations gone to shreds.
blackened by smoked out lungs and
magnificently inflated egos.
Found strangers in our beds.
Darling awesomenette
Bang your head, friction
Your life is fiction.
Malboro drags and Kents
I blame the parents.

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