Vauge, like sunscreen wishing it wasnt

wasted on a place that doesnt see the sun,

on the sidewalk,

the street skin,

formed from the cells of those that once lived in it.

Entity, living,

not breathing,

Very, very ugly, my friend.

I love you. Leave me, dont go.

I see. And you. Fight. The undercurrent. Cunt.

I am. . .. . . modest redress. Is all I seek for

my wounds. They are like yours. The product of loving fists. The sort that would set you

straight if you could see where you were going. What do you see? Air. perhaps,

I see women eying me with desire thinking

to themselves that Im something worth fucking. Im not.

Wish they'd catch that at the first. They dont.

They do catch a hard glance, one of fear and hesitation, the sort

that's best suited for the enemy.

I am my enemy.

I am my enemy.

I twitched; this ursine fellow;

vile nod. Let it rip pieces off of you, peel you like old paint.

Eyelash crackling, snapping off like the edge of an icicle.

Its a knee jerk response. To fall apart, I think.