(crackled stilts)

My brain is a rusty nail carving face from a slipshod lifestyle when the memories of killer parties are lost to something like love songs and the welcome summer sun come over the tracks and well-warmed ghost.

Rising up again...

(neigh plus ultra)

My brain is the next new anything, torn up and tattooed on the back of a long lover's neck. half-drunk and hopelessly lost in the throes of the negro streets dawning a new chance to make this city his own again. like it was.

And always fucking has been...