Paris Hilton has herpes, I gave them to her.

He killed the help
give me the gun

It broke and blue powder,
the colour of eyes stained my finger
and burned going down.

Now, both real and imaginary,
bricks bounce off my sternum and the veins in my neck become arteries,
arteries into twigs of ironwood trees.

Even in my towards direction I’m backwards. When I feel
things they don’t come. I tell you about pain, I talk about things that don’t matter which builds to unleashments and an hour later
I am in my well-equipped vehicle with Hot Chic dying.

If I could be anything, I’d be summer 07 balenciaga eyewear resting on
reformed bridges everywhere. Instead I am here, uniformed and smeared with ride symptoms.