+ Death In Bed +

There are no instruction manuals, no
pocket book sized pamphlets complete

with diagrams and bullet lists, no
chapter devoted to proper etiquette

for initiating foreplay
with bones. I could use some advice

on what to wear: a pink negligee
or maybe just skin? Or less?

Should I worry about making death
feel at ease? Do I offer him a drink?

Gin and tonic or under the rocks,
what do you say, lover? Do I call him

lover? Turn the lights off or leave
them on? And again, the question

of foreplay. Would it be easier
if I made conversation? Come here

often, do you? Lover? Maybe
when he comes, I will just lie

still. Maybe I should ask him
if he would hold my breath.


--Saeed Jones


+ + + + + + + +




Oh give me a clue somehow
My days were so mis-spent, now
I'm wasting my time
Worrying on about you

Oh soul-less city
Your changing skyline is twisting me up
Inside - I give away another minute

+ sometimes nothing's clear at all +

"I have a vision of the opium dens of the Renaissance where the almighty lords and the stoned-out dreamers met in the darkness and exchanged a vision for humanity. I see a return of these new secret meeting places for there is a hunger and we need to share again. Mix with the unknowns, share with each other our humanity. Let downtown come uptown and let uptown come downtown. Let Courtenay Street be awash with puzzled faces. Let the lobsters out of their pots. Put the rabbit back into the pie. I have a hunger for a legal secretary of either sex who can record my dreams with their own embellishments."

--Tao Wells

+ i am not a robot +

+ i became a prostitute +

The Twillight Sad - I Became A Prostitute from TLOBF.COM on Vimeo.

+ to save, for always +

Punk On Paper - Renato Parada

+ a tribute +

“When he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun.”



+ + + + + + +

a tribute
to a thing
that made me
more
real
and
made me
question
everything i knew.

at last,
the beauty,
sweet,
was born and
came
into the world
violent
and porcelain.

tracks.
these deep frames
carved
knowledge
into her supernova tendencies.
and gifted her
such a
magnificent loneliness.

all that was left
was to be
reborn.

and when the cocoon split,
she was not a butterfly
but
a
beetle.
shiny and slick.
such a hard, hard shell
filled with the softest
insides.
and crushed
in the
whisp
of a
heartbeat.

+ slowly sinking +

i have an empty head
overflowing
with thoughts
of only you.

you and you and
fucking
you.

never met a man
whom
such a boy.

forgotten talents of mine,
i throw them
into the LA River.
all trash heaped
and
disease infested.
a replica of
my
sordid heart.

do you see what you've done here?
don't you?

your silences,
they are
much
too deep.

i'd like
to drown
your pretty little face
in my heartstrings,
and watch
the blood
choke up
your throat.

i want
to see
you suffer,
as i
suffer
for you.

Body - Flotation Walls