Tim Barrus Blog
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And I am Here to Tell You
today, sunspots appeared when you go whizzing by tender in the shadows/ the horror of your existence will not die in a legion of soldierships where the seal you have tightened up so you might live between what souls have seen as their assignment beginning with how you died at…
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We Had to Stop…
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When They Take The Food Right Out Of Your Mouth…
Contrary to what you might be hearing from the white, privileged, upper-middle-class activists, AIDS is not over. No quite yet. https://timbarrus.tumblr.com
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toward whose delirious repose
you in your distance toward whose delirious repose suggesting structures of scars i have seem them all i have touched them all i have followed them with my lizard’s tongue i want to thank you for teaching me a huge, huge fucking lesson/ never get arrested/ https://timbarrus.tumblr.com
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But For This
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Memory’s Machine
road trip with the dust and weed smoke in the car so thick, our eyes were the gas stations in the full gasoline noon/ the small town street lamps had once been crows, and all the motels had been rolling hills whose With Nothing To Return To was solid as…
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Memory’s Machine
après la fête le reste rages de poussière resté derrière se masturber à l’intérieur du cerveau enregistrer plus tôt tragédies désorientées par flou si parallèle événements https://www.instagram.com/timbarrus/
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Memory’s Machine
lost afternoons justly placed each mirror could be manifest beyond sex work is still work and sweat and humiliation just like any other form of work an arrangement of perspective sheets, walls, scrubbing floors in unison our lips in full abundance we brought along our gods from the pawn shops
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Memory’s Machine
et sa ceinture quand il fouette tu es nu vous autorisez seulement lui baiser toi dans le cul quand il y a pas de nourriture et ton ventre grogne comme un tigre bleu a sauté à travers la fenêtre à ton lit vous dites à votre agresseur te baiser dans…
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Memory’s Machine
the two of them could be silent as a blackboard/ i no longer know what it means to simply be/ their history is one of burning bones and whipped and a cigarette of fiery scars you cannot see/ who could do that to a child stop asking me that question…