- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Categorical Consumption
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I told him he reminded me of a rapist. He looked at my art and asked who the fuck Wade was. The overzealous gun nut with a tire slashing habit reminds me more of Jeff. Even though the description fits both well. As frustrating as Chaucer. The good cop bad detective shit. Well, I prefer the literature of the early 19 hundreds. All about the slavery, pre-women's rights, and fab-u-luss tea parties. Love stories of the filthy rich. Do I look good? How's my hair? You look fine but smell like dick, balls, and shit. Remember Pasolini dead in the street. His characters knawing the cunts of young women. Whores telling stories in order to live. Eating shit and dying? You never told me about Wade yet, bitch!
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