10.20.2004

i used to hitchhike my aches to haircut appointments.

when i came to the fork in the road, the waitressing leaves hung like licorice. i had about as much time to remove the imprints of cyclical masturbation. the itch was despairing and i wrought the folds like a lozenge. a road reduced to bondage

i used to puncture my arteries with dinnerware and diaryland

but now, my responses are so poisoned to be perilous they make the act of trickotreating look like al qaeda plane delivery