Back track flap jack

I forgot to post this up here. This is the first catalyst product that I wrote on a field trip to the Hollywood Reservoir. To explain how I write poetry: it's a collage of words. Ideally it's just ink on page, pixels background(0). The meaning is what you make of it. When we reviewed it in studio Juan Azulay interpreted it as a suicide. Another valid attempt to escape in the land of drift.

Hawk bite

Forget those cacophonies that I sucked out of your hot sauce gums twisted and sistered under the Hollywood sign. I choked on cellophane and gelatin while catching splinters in my knees. Your taco tainted tongue left lime stains on my upper inner thigh.

I was one of the first.

Dandy candy lovers on the carousel poles look up for loose light bulbs and Edison flytraps. Polaroids caught up with infinity and unbuttoned my jaw. The stories in your pockets tasted inky and dry. It was petrified lashes that dragged me to tears.

I haven’t laughed for you since December.

Dead berries on a crooked branch hit my diaphragm with more bounce than nights you traded me. Hold on to that token keeping the laundry machines bulimic and warm. Maybe in an hour you can spit serotonin back in to my aggressive spores. It’s all relatives around the toe of the lamb ass boots. Won’t you hold my breath while

I can’t remember when to leave.