

A fast, gassed-up year and a half of obscenities
That time comes back to me nicely as a spliced up montage of debauchery, a dicey collage of sot tampered memories lacking any solid form...


bathhouse with venus
underneath my civilian clothes, my rainbow scales gleam with the mad night, glowing through my shirt— but only you can see these colors....


a declaration
tonight, let’s skip all the sad songs, we don’t have time for that shit. By Tohm Bakelas


no remedy
gestures made out of kindness fall flat against panes of glass that splinter in cold darkness. no remedy exists for this. walking away is...