turn the rich into wine

how great you move, elegant and brave, come to another dance with us, I will give you a ride
car stuffed with surgical equipment
turned into wine. kneeshaking and clusterphobically exotic, toxic sweetness reaching the stars, dreamrealized.
and then drown

turned her into wine as we sat on the stairs between one floor and another of her luscious apartment and she told me all about Big Macs and cookies and crepes and caramel sauces, followed by guilt and exhaustion and self-hate and long 12 hours of sleep and swimming pool all day long upon awakening.
months later, caffeinated to our eyeballs, we were comforting each other and she was supporting the economy oh so strongly
and then she operated, became bony and breathtaking. and drown

what are you doing with me? he asked. I am turning you into wine. consumed each other on edges of bathtubs, slippery clean
bored. rained and drowned.

no more turning the rich into wine
[instead]will turn your lengthy sips of cheap alcohol into my genderless galaxies. would you like that? It will kill you and me slowly. I dream that it will. you and me are ******** slowly caring wishing creating producing twisting slowly gradually respeCTFULLy gently like never and nobody
mimes creating wealth, penniless jokes, oh let me go where there is no neurotic riches, intoxicated pragmatics, let me live in a circus with no animals, give me a path towards all my cravings but don't make it easy or stuntless

make it rocky, with tiny pebbles that sound so comforting but keep me hungry,
place little houses along its side that would remind me of those in beautiful England and squeeze my heart or whatever it is in there that would hurt like nothing else
give me madness on my way, I want it, even more of it, I want to overcome it
stick mines and wires all over it, I will learn to wear either a helmet or sunscreen. or an oxygen mask. or an iron lung
give me this path and release me from this wine

all the rich behind me, so long and good night

care package

big hug

no liqourice here! best before end

but then after the end what happens? after the end?.. uh...I came so unprepared...





As Kremlin is falling on the background, this whole thing pours all over my face with purity and [Godot]. The statues I erected while waiting, they never cry. Hollywood's wind is a howl. Allen Ginsberg visits me once again among the waiters and the drunk. clever and weird. "Those statues over there are truly massive," - he remarks. "Yes. Yes they are," - I am confident because even though our measurement systems are interfering, our aesthetic comprehension is still in tune. "They will not cry, you know," - it is my biggest innovative creation, the non-crying statues, and I am extensively proud of it, so why not mention it over and over to clever and weird people? "Do you like avocados?" he asks. "They are fruit, you know." Now, this is from something completely different. Take a potato and put a message in it. Make two potatoes dance as if they are shoes with forks as legs. Watch Kremlin falling. My statues do not cry. I will not show them to anyone anymore. So wealthy today. You?


hug time

time to hug
hug the time - it's been good to good people

clown turbulence

glory gory? Gory glory?

I am your Biggest Fan. Not theirs. and not even theirs. Yours. Your Biggest Fan.


the best friend is the best friend is the best friend (so invite him into the used plastic bag). a cage is a cage is a cage is a cage (so deafen him with the song of a captive bird as it is choking on captive worms).


what are you? wearied wrinkled crumbs of lint, a pile of laundry in a bag? changed as we all have, not smoking so much, shorter hair, liking Dostoevsky, sharply aware whenever the cue words "Red Square"? invigorated, well-fed, well-loved, the family accepted your friends, connection deepened? refreshed, with winter coolness frosty reality while revisiting the street down which you and I up and down hot sticky afternoons last summer? ready? ready? Mad? mad? hurt? hurt? ego warrior steel jacket? Ego?! Ego?! long-lasting human stuff.
sirenheads, curfewsmokers. they want to start pushing alarm buttons on the window blinds, to reattach your eyelashes with stringy manipulations to the concentrated sunny dust. to maneuver the corners. your eyes corners, your mouth corners, your heart corners, your edges. I like my edge. it keeps me edgy. language weapon. I am a troubled boy. Because I like to destroy.
Well, what

is wrong

with a little

destruction?

hair colored smooth reflective beam pasta. too many mirrors in this room.
my hair stylist is colorblind!!!
(a very important development)
sunglasses framed to coordinate with toenails and flip flops' bottoms
outrageous but true. the world is on love. or is it just you. outrageous.

[belly stretch. cool moon sent laundry. changed as we all have, not smoking anything at all, shorter hair, status 'lush', instead of the older one which disintegrated into lint forcefully with a strict set of word-knives] language weapon, you asked for it.

Outrageous but true. Who are you, honey pools in my head from your perfect body dripping? used to bleed: sticky witchcraft drinkable from our veins couldn't get much higher. used to weep: birds and creatures soaking in the seas of salty and gradually accumulating floods. used to throw butcher knives like pins: thousands at a time, across the silky skin to scar to flake to become ugly and noticeably repelling. and then inside. And now - dripping with honey?!!



sticky sweet turbulence. god damn it, your make up never drips I can't even taste it I lick your face and it stays on your skin. not sure any more it is make up at all. white and red, naked nose, freckles, symmetrical, almost status suggesting is it not fake? is it you?. we are beautiful. forest of narcissi on fire. give me a clue for I am clueless. Bugs. What are your bugs

beehive exploding stickily, unbearable, fills with sweetness, up the throat, enormous state of monstrosity, lava of honey consumes, even sweeter than the anticipation of THE KNOWN: the unknown. potholes for rain to puddle in, filled with sugary liquid all around your house on top of the hill

a vampire who is burning now in a forest fire. love him. he loved you. not her. you. he is your Biggest Fan. Not theirs, YOURS. Your Biggest Fan.