giving them what they want is what whores supposedly do/

connect with your audience and suck their dicks why do you

think people will do anything because people will do anything

their capacity for it is infinite/

disfigured as we R/ who is purchasing tickets for mars/

and then the sky cracked

more like a butt crack than a chasm in the galaxy, and i stand outside

on the Southern veranda and i am

here to tell you that the light turned

green in eclipse and you could hear

the moon go round//

the crows were still in their dark rooms

of pretty glass and fish bones quiet in our skin some of us were barefoot but

we made no sound/

our nipples pressed into the dirt we

sang songs of being strangled by a grip we find difficult to articulate masturbating with the dead before long

there will be none of us left

or anywhere near Mars///