Tim Barrus Blog
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A Guy in the Squat called the Cops
The guy who called the cops had a gun and started shooting it inside the squat. Crazies are the pageantry of nobody’s home. I hope the cops busted his white ass. We were gone by then. Vagrancy is an able seaman. -
Turning Tricks
I am compelled to put my bullshit about how sex work is bad for adolescent boys because sex work is what is keeping us alive. Eat shit, Tim. Finally some food. And not dumpster food. Eleven of us in one small motel room. This does not mean I have to… -
WHERE DOES IT ALL GO WRONG
Straight people won’t want to hear this. Then, cover your stupid ears. Cover your stupid eyes. Cover your motherfucking mouth. Nothing interferes in their right to have children. Your children are fucked. Public castration would help. Tie your tubes, Mommy. The daddies and the mommies are the problem. The kids…
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AROUND HERE WE DANCE A LOT. NOT.
We used to dance all the time. Crank the music up. The house is empty. We have sold most stuff to pay for food. We got twenty bucks for the speakers. It’s like living in the House of Usher. A dull dark and soundless day. Dancing is the past. There…
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Zoned Out: The Getting Out of Dodge Poems
i never felt anything while they were fucking me/ i zoned out to places you have never seen/
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You Through The Apple Thicket
your suitcase of secrets hasn’t held any secrets for a long, long time, now has it/// i know you through the memory of my tongue your hole of incendiary drowning and wanton mammon you to the gallows/ your mouth the choir invisible a surveillance this getting out of dodge has… -
The Getting Out Of Dodge Poems
i have traveled like the snail resolved in a spur of the moment arriving and departing and habitual he returns again i travel slowly and stop a lot the light through a wilderness of angry sparks flying up as they appeal to stars to save them but nothing can i…
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U R
u r not some shallow dumpster dive u r not trash u r not what mom and dad tell u what u might b u r not grace u r not above it all u r not stupid u r not some teacher’s prejudice u r not always strong u…
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sleeping on the floor
there is a cement brick embedded in my back we often sleep in empty rooms where we have slept before the sunlight slipping in like dust is an old story to the likes of us no furniture no computers just our phones no future no dreams no relief from sleeping…
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I’m Washing My Hair That Night
If there was a way to skateboard in a flood, we would find it. Business as usual. Intervention Is. Sometimes impossible. I have learned the hard way that you cannot impose interventions on adolescent boys twenty-four hours a day. It’s not my fault. I didn’t raise them. I am merely…