(hey yo)

Spark the brain in the morning

With the building

To be born…




Cadillac needs space to roll

Where we’re headed for she don’t know…




Desire simultaneously anchors you to the here and now

And allows you to float off into the big fake, untagged space above

Where there are no consequences

And everything has that digital glow:



the joy of giving in and letting go...



csquat NYC

I like to imagine the opening titles, flashing across the screen in a half-translucent utilitarian font, like the kind on old fabric labels, laid over a shot of me, lonely, trembling under boom mikes, my hair tousled just the right amount.

the music would have to be something sinister, a dj set overture, something that vibrates the dolby bass and buzzes teeth in the theater...i play it over and over in my head...it's what i do when i should be mastubating


Timeless

Mindless

Last night, I walked home the same way.

Straight across 10th street, from first to eighth avenue.

Eess side, wesssssside.

I found myself imagining that you were nearby, following me again in the dark. I even turned around suddenly a couple of times, yanking off my headphones and listening intently, like a twisted mop of an animal sitting up on its hunches. Were you out there, somewhere, between the lights? Watching me, looking out?

What if I called your name?

(would it matter which one?)

Would you come out under the blue streetlight

And tell me what you wanted

Or continue stalking

Like the kind of fucked-up freak you used to be?

Why didn’t you talk to me?



Why did you let me go into that bar?

(why was my son allowed into the machine rooms?)

Sterling,

Sometimes I just want you to make it stop. I know you understand that urge of mine—that need to be alone, away even from my own thoughts—but then you do nothing to facilitate it.

You don’t even try.

Listen,

You were always my friend

You were never defeated

You were never second best




You’re the one I’ve chosen to throw the mask in my face.

(I’m the boy)

The fruit from summer is overripe.

(who’s learned to enjoy)

But all I’m having is toast.

(invisibility)