Tim Barrus Blog
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DeathWatchJournal #5
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DeathWatch Journal #4
First, they invented fire. Next, they reinvented themselves. Today, I am told they do not really want to be here. They mean the planet. – TB
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DeathWatch Journal #3
I got sick. I did run away from home. I do sex work. It means I am a hore. I hate the pills. Take a pill. Take a pill. 100 pills. I am on strike. No pills. I flushed the pills. Every day you got to see a docter. I… -
DeathWatch Journal #2
I am Dieter. I did a video. We go camping. I was in a tent. Kev holds the cam. I do not no to do sond yet. I have a bad hart. I will get a new one if someone is dead. I am tired. My mom did bad stuff… -
DeathWatch Journal #1
DeathWatch Journal – The Smash Street Boys – We call Smash Street’s new project: DeathWatch Journal. We are sick and tired of being treated like we are so utterly HARD TO REACH. We are choosing not to participate in our own humiliation. The bunch of us flushed the fucking…
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Some Kings Are Real
down among the groves where the dust was wet on the swollen bunches of purple grapes making patterns of the moon in doorways and your castle was a planet separate from ourselves where death awaits the catacombs and your coronation was held among the fish nets https://tim-barrus.format.com/about
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HIV Meds Flushed
We don’t care anymore. The antiretrovirals went down the toilet. These meds have become our life, and as such, it’s not a life. AIDS is a fatal disease. Bring that motherfucker on. They call us the hard to reach. They spit on us. Keeping the river of HIV meds flowing…
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Tim Barrus: The New York Times: Growing Old in America
Poverty is a cycle. It comes. It goes. It eats its young. It decimates its old. It is not unlike the people who inhabit it. Tara Parker-Pope’s statement in the New York Times: Getting older is inevitable (and certainly better than the alternative) stuns me. We are afraid of death.…
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Church Shoes, Ah – by Tay
At the ripe old age of sixteen, Tay is what the government and the AIDS orgs (both kinda the same thing) call “The Hard To Reach.” We blame them. The Hard To Reach. Shame on them, right. Supposedly, it’s all their fault. I guess someone has to be the fall… -
shifting differences of breath
the witching hour is when U preserved in amber sleep breathing in your dreams and threads through the sounds of shame swallowing today your children have stones for eyes and suffering cold their fallen snow melts wet upon a witch’s tongue https://tim-barrus.format.com/about