Friday, September 5, 2008

If I wasn't broke I'd be broke

I don't want to do anything today
Everything i pick up, i put down.
I live on heat street with the laundry mats
They are building luxury lofts down the street.
This generation of irony is nauseating.
I live on heat street
and the concrete scalds calloused fingers scraping looking digging for something to do with the time
unsatisfied
walking
sun
burning
red
tiles melting on the wood paneling in 1974
baby
This money
If I had money I'd spend it and have none
having fun
glorious fun
down highways and bi-ways on landscapes so beautiful my eyes cum and I'm blinded
once again in the sun
Burning
on a beach filled with cigarettes and bottle caps and people playing radios playing pop songs and they leave it up loud even during the commercials and the jelly fish swim away to eat the shit somewhere else and nobody is even swimming here anyways.

1 comment:

ashley said...

i think your writing is beautiful. i did and i still do.