The young boy watches from afar.
Cognitive mist turns to monsoon at the twist of a thought
1. To Make babies, 2. to wax that ass, 3! to wax that Ass, 4. (to Start a Family). Click fast before a virus. Oops! Click from that fat ass to Selassie in the chapel and keep your dick flaccid, your seat-belts fastened and your heart solemn: a good student of The Sciences.
The other boys are playing catch.
From cities of Gold! to the hallways of the Marcy Projects:::::::Today, Babylon is everywhere.
Once you step onto the field, you can never come off.
Life is like a box of raisins becoming the man you’ve been taught to avoid. I was so smart when I was a kid and then I learned that I was dumb.
I killed God years ago and now I’m beginning to see why the Old City stoned-corridor’s fill with people on Fridays.
Those coy-boys from small towns with large hearts play catch with stray bullets.
Down in the subway, opening the Emergency Exit doors lets one into the mind of a madman.
An aluminized HazMat suit on the eve of the summer equinox sipping cocktails in Ipanema with some chick.
I see you acting like you don’t see me…