I write right off the typer. I call it my "machinegun." I hit it hard, usually late at night while drinking wine and listening to classical music on the radio and smoking mangalore ganesh beedies.
You have my soul and I have your money
there are policemen in the street and angels in the clouds
purple does something strange to me
New Year's Eve always terrifies me.
I was so thin I could slice bread with my shoulderblades, only I seldom had bread.