#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
as the spirit wanes the form
she’s not for you, man, she’s not your type, she’s erased she’s been used she’s got all the wrong
In the morning I heard her walkin… It was about 10:30 a.m. I was sic… She shook me. “Listen, I want you… “So what? I’ll screw her too.” “Yeah,” she laughed, “yeah.”
you know I sat on the same barstool in Phi… 5 years I drank canned heat and the cheape… I was beaten in alleys by well-fed…
One night I was coming around the corner after sneaking down to the cafeteria for a pack of smokes. And there was a face I knew. It was Tom Moto! The guy I had subbed with under The Sto...
drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end o… of wine, I have typed from a dozen… poesy an old man maddened for the flesh of young gi…
he walks up to my Volks after I have parked and rocks it back and forth grinning around his
Everybody had gym period at the same time. Baldy’s locker was about four or five down from mine in the same row. I went to my locker early. Baldy and I had a similar problem. We hated w...
sitting in a dark bedroom with 3 j… female. brown paper bags filled with trash… everywhere. is one-thirty in the afternoon.
I met an old drunk on the street one afternoon. I used to know him from the days with Betty when we made the rounds of the bars. He told me that he was now a postal clerk and that there...
I have been hanging here headless for so long that the body has forgotten
once we were young at this machine. . . drinking
Van Gogh cut off his ear gave it to a prostitute who flung it away in extreme
I am in this low—slung sports car painted a deep, rich yellow driving under an Italian sun. I have a British accent. I’m wearing dark shades
he was just a cat cross-eyed, dirty white with pale blue eyes