Gridlink
Bluelighter
And there are. Blogs here, I mean. So why not take advantage of this wonderful opportunity to share intimate details of my personal life? Because those details are mine, you voyeuristic bastards.
But I will share with you a poem. It is part of the series I call Bad Car Poetry.
The flies are fucking awful today
And I think beetles are breeding somewhere under the back seats.
I swat one fly, leave his body lying there
For his friends to find
So that they know I don't fuck around.
But they don't get the message,
They keep swarming like
I were in the Libyan desert during world war II.
The dog keeps diving at the flies
Like a Stuka bomber
And when she catches some fat bumbler,
She chews it and winces at the taste.
But she still keeps diving
And I keep swatting
And I think maybe we are in some level of purgatory
Where cleansing comes by killing flies
And any moment now,
Dante will walk around the corner,
Wave to me,
And ask me my life story.
I'd probably tell it to Dante,
I don't feel like telling it here.
But I will share with you a poem. It is part of the series I call Bad Car Poetry.
The flies are fucking awful today
And I think beetles are breeding somewhere under the back seats.
I swat one fly, leave his body lying there
For his friends to find
So that they know I don't fuck around.
But they don't get the message,
They keep swarming like
I were in the Libyan desert during world war II.
The dog keeps diving at the flies
Like a Stuka bomber
And when she catches some fat bumbler,
She chews it and winces at the taste.
But she still keeps diving
And I keep swatting
And I think maybe we are in some level of purgatory
Where cleansing comes by killing flies
And any moment now,
Dante will walk around the corner,
Wave to me,
And ask me my life story.
I'd probably tell it to Dante,
I don't feel like telling it here.
