debris

something

"The Grapevine looms before us
like a grape vine"

- a great poet

when death has wrapped his fingers
around my simple soul
and taken me away
into the great unknown
and like a whisper spoken on the wind
I’ve been lost,
then I’ll never say
it doesn’t make sense
again.

coconut crumbs mingle with car oil on the asphalt

there's a woman who is homeless who stands outside the K INN doughnut shop at Van Nuys and Woodman, she was there tonight at 8, when I went in the store she was just coming out of it and when I left she was standing there outside with her elbows on her shopping cart and one foot up on the undercarriage by the rear wheels. I saw her four or five years ago and was worried for her, but I guess she does okay.

megan

sacrifice is a great honor. the abandoned buddha eats only the choicest maidens to appease his great anger toward the santa claritians.





special limited edition post

virus

i gave up on this painting several times

the turk speeks

"Plastic munchies? Plastic munchies! Time to eet the plastic monchees? Plastic monchees? Plastic monchees! Time to eet the plastic monchees!" -Turk

the sleepy ones

mini comic

a line of dialogue that will be cut

JANKINS
I know what it feels like to lie. I know what the heart does. I know what it’s like to hide in the dark when authorities are looking for you with flashlights. I know what fear is like on a dark street at one AM. I know what it’s like to watch a man fire a gun, all nine rounds, and the smile that can be on his face when he kills another man. I know what it’s like to see a man bleed to death on the sidewalk and to be too scared to help him or call for the paramedics. I know the splitting wail that comes from the patrol cars and the blinding red and blue lights, and when I see them, I know to hide. I’ll show you what fear can do to a man. I’ll show you what money can do to the mind of a man. I’ll show you what pride can do when blood is easily spilled. I’ll show you the darkness of the jail cell and the madness that overtakes the mind of a man, slowly, a little more every time he goes into the camp. It affects you. It gets to your head. You’re a worm who goes into a cocoon and comes out not as a butterfly but as a mosquito, and you’ll never lose the taste for blood.

the royal sun

The day, if you’d call it that,
is mostly done
Nice people have become ugly
Smoke chokes my throat and
starts to sting my eyes –
it’s alright,
smoke in the eyes is alright…
Let’s talk about forsaking
everything and everyone
over smokes at the Royal Sun…

X

until the abandoned buildings are finally forsaken even by the homeless and the vagrants and the downtrodden and the disenfranchised,

until all the spray cans are empty and the last black sputters have dripped down my fingers,

until the hot sun above has scorched my skin and the dark underground has chilled my bones,

until the heavens are opened up for me, or hell has wrapped its fingers around my soul,

until everything makes sense, or everything is finally rendered meaningless:

Blessed be the walls in this city, the beautiful ones and ugly ones, the walls that give warmth, the walls that receive markings and spray from the artists and gangsters; blessed be the walls, until the day that they fall.

headhands?

no apologies

she was almost as black as the night
and her eyes were clear;
her eyes judged all things.
her hair caught highlights here and there
from the street-light behind her,
and clouds came from her mouth when she spoke.
“oh no,” she said when I told her my name,
“that’s his name,” she said.
(the guy who was the asshole
had the same name as me)
Otherwise she was nice to me
and her smile was bright,
except sometimes it went away
and then there was pain in her eyes –
the pain of memory
as she explained things that
I felt like I shouldn’t hear.
I think she told me because she knew
tomorrow I’d be gone.
Where am I now, _______?
Where are you?
(I forget your name...)
have you decided whether or not to smile?