made for Smoke Signal #18

(see larger scale on my tumbly)


It feeds on girls that have tattoos of dandelions blowing in the wind.

We get yelled at when we play in the garage.


Making drunk friends finger paint with me in the garage.

My heart looks like a face cloth.

collaboration with modern-medicine 

(And I will be the chair you kick away)


The Mercurial wind died as I was cutting through my losses.

Its embarrassed imperative went limp. Panic.

I’ll Cajole these slightly severed bits back to my body,

And bathe in their blood and battered trust.

  • Things I scribble on bathroom walls in shitty bars

When you end up in a tree at 6am after a night of substance abuse.