he wears bukowski cologne. she shrugs and whispers I REMEMBER in her sleep. emotions are contradictary fruit can labels... peaches and cream. bananna melt down.

fruit to the juice. PUNCH! there went the master copy.

edit.

fluctuate. re-tag. disassemble.

words of my youth and for the decade, now my future stands 6 feet tall and an inch or two with hair that could talk to god.

strike the voice, killer substance!

yield a mummifying substance. .. tastes like pine-sol and licorice.

and then i sparked up a conversation with a pink hatted woman and we danced under the sun but now my cheeks are red.