Back in the USSR...

...boy...

you don't know how lucky you are...BOY



thisisamagazine...because everybody wants a shadylane

i light a smoke and lean back in a heavy morning gospel chair. i haven't slept yet. when you go this long without sleep you become afraid of the sudden drop.

the bellyflop into the abyss.

i'd rather space out to the beat of life's knock in my wrists.

cha-chum, cha-chum, cha-chum

gears switch, hydraulics hiss

greased with ancient residue, I'm my parent's genetic wish

half-granted, half-mistake

with fine-tuned migration instincts like a fish...

the blue waves of the harlem river are in freeze-frame, thick like icing on the cake.

(when things switch, I chop a new niche)

thankyoujamie

the gray light is different. it glows with an inner bling. a new york thing.