contorted

i really love it and it’s making me money

the report is all verbatim our exit interview sucked dick given the same weight we are all acrobats

your pain what pain your pain

he denied he was in pain i ignored the fuck out of him i did eat his ass out though his life was an animal of stealth but i could always smell his desire long before he arrived 

Moving Through the Fog Like Thieves

I drive through the fog on my big black bike. It’s a lot like sex at all the straining angles. Cutting through the Blue Ridge fog, we become less and less. Glowing in the dark around a bend. Leaning into the shadows of the moon. We slept like cards in…

The Black Rainbow You Have Painted

even the sex with you is always dark and to break it with a lack of hope my cock in your mouth and the antidote oblivious of any infinite book of secrets/ your tongue slipping into my urethra, and no i will not piss in your mouth because i am…

Tim Barrus On Being Touched: New York Times

Long before latin became a language, the politics of rape did not mean the translation we think we understand when someone says rape or writes it. Raped meant kidnapped because the Sabines were raped and kidnapped. There was no word for rape in the same way that today we still…

Roads of Salt

his ass had traveled & had disappeared many times only to show up again at the carnival of sea walls and quaintly labeled jars containing his voices & his fluids having torn himself open with tongues at the edges of the ponds

Except For This

except for this, i am always hanging on to stones/ i should have known better than to take a dancer home/ at least i called it a home/ someone had to/ i do have rules/ rule#1/ never ever ever ever take a dancer home unless you are completely mad/ a…

Or Why The Fuck Are You Here

exactly how does one make any sense of a universe-of-existence that both embraces change and runs away from it/ you either dive head first into the vast unknown, the uncontrollable, death with its chains for every mind/ the secrets you do not yet understand how to translate/ what do you…

Video: Smashing the Silence

Usually, they are following me. This time, I am following them. With cameras. Three to be exact. We switch roles. They have always followed me if I am organizing. But not this time. I can only write small glimpses of what they do, what they’re about, what being marginal really…

Den Stockholm pojken masturberar

efter onanering/ auctioneeren/ kronan/ du äter hans ack/ priset är en buzzard för soppa/ slutföra köpet av engagemang/ invigningstal/ hemligheterna av hans fängelset/ färgen på snö och is och gags på vinden/

Tim Barrus: The New York Times: Suicide

http://www.nytimes.com/2019/03/14/opinion/suicide-prevention.html?comments#permid=31069462 After they are dead, I will go into their rooms to smell them. As if to remind myself that each one is a separate individual. I put his pillow in my face and breathe him in deeply. I crawl naked into his bed. I finally sleep. The days after…

Video: We Are The Travelers & We Have Returned

We are the travelers whose empty lips have foreshadowed the wolves growling at the door. Some say the strength of twenty men. 

Video: Chinatown, Chinatown

Poetry Performance: by Tim Barrus Poetry Script: by Harrison Camera Work: Smurf I do not want to be a spy for hope. I do not believe in hope. I know this: Life sucks. I want to be a spy for crazy. It’s crazy to be in extraordinary and chronic pain.…

Video: U Gotta Have Your Own Thing

Performance: by Tim Barrus Poetry Script: by Darren Camera: Smurf Death is when you have nothing about yourself including you. You gotta have your own thing.

The Death Watch & The Desert Poetry

Real Cowboys i could not ride for days like he could my ass my ass my kingdom for an ass https://tim-barrus.format.com/about

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.…

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

Another Night of Whores

the fuckbucket slinks around the block not unlike the tongues of midnight in ten thousand of them creep along the sidewalks, too if only i could steal myself free of some trick’s eating of my ass i would do it like a tyrant’s vein so blue in temperament all that’s…

Joel, We R With U

Hang in there with me, Joel. We got this.

Ships Swift As Thoughts

Utterly Useless CDC Posters

How is it, any of this collection of CDC posters taped to a toilet bathroom wall supposedly stops me in my tracks and compels me to change my entire life. Get real. The hard to reach get stick figures. The CDC is removed from any of the lives I’ve lived.…

Behind the Smokescreen

out of all the places you could have flown 2 in order to hide like addiction butcher ciggs are an addiction too you supposedly can see me but I supposedly cannot see you when in fact, it’s the other way around the glasses are from walgreens https://tim-barrus.format.com/about

skid marks

now that dna has shifted will religion follow kinda like skid marks no one thinks so either god will get along in his holy way to the glory holes and shifts again i wore a knife to school packed in my motorcycle boots i would slit a few necks well…

THE AIR AROUND HIM IS STRANGE

https://tim-barrus.format.com/about #ART #PhotographicArt #SmashStreet #poetry