dry tears and daydreams


castles in the sky
built on dry tears and daydreams
raindrops on the sand

lying in the sun
cold skin, bikinis, warm sea
clouds and our secrets

veins like brittle trees
make me dream of yesterdays
the sound of crickets

all night I tremble
reeds on ancient battlefields
Years pass like shadows

you miss the beauty
gaze at your own reflection
koi glide through water

lives I lost and found
always changing nothing yet
somehow still alive

I listen for you
to cup your voice in my hands
on dark starry nights

run away with me
promise I’ll never love you
double suicide

collapse into her
goodnight my sweet prince, she said
warm and safe again

Junk Romance #4: Nicole

“A mild degree of junk sickness always brought me the magic of childhood. ‘It never fails,’ I thought. ‘Just like a shot. I wonder if all junkies score for this wonderful stuff.’” 
-William S. Burroughs

True junk romance is to be totally alone, no matter whose eyes stare back at you with desire.

Relapse brings back the dreams. Withdrawal brings back the yearning. I can feel her calling, her shiver down my spine. We’re addicted to the withdrawal just as much as the high. The relapse makes the agony of her withdrawal worth every second.

In junk dreamtime, she teases me with visions of the ones I loved enough to pose a threat to her. I fell in love with her at first touch. She’s jealous because I fell in love with you at first sight.

I can see your brown eyes staring into mine in that fluorescent room with grey carpet and old computers humming to the drone of a lecture by a woman with an ironic obsession for Robert Carlyle. She can put me there with you right now, years ago, forever, some day soon. Beautiful with your short brown hair and olive skin, your elvish smile, your eyes never too coy to draw away from my gaze. Do you still exist? Will you ever? Junk makes time travelers of us all and gives us scattered dreams where we had lives as smooth as ravens’ claws.

I used to believe in love at first sight until I met her. She taunts me with your ghost and I’ve lost everything but your eyes. Dark eyes that stare into my empty soul. You’ll never exist again at seventeen, in this moment or in my collapsing future. And she’ll never let me go. I’ll only have your eyes watching me from the past, a cruel gift from her as she waits around the corner and in the dark alleys I’m drawn toward as I’m pulled away from you.


isla vista


“After a shooting spree, they always want to take the guns away from the people who didn’t do it. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to live in a society where the only people allowed guns are the police and the military.” William S. Burroughs, 1992 (yes, I’m aware of the irony).

control your gun.
no tongue
no touching
control your love
with a bullet.
let’s get trigger happy
send flowers
to your funeral.
send bullets signed:
the end.
(of you)

17 minutes.
quiet. there.
someone just got shot
to death.
black kid probably.
not a person of use
to gun control advocates
his name
won’t be
in the papers.

don’t want to
get shot in America?
carry a gun at all?
never leave home?
(without a IIIA vest)

all Japan is an island.
an unarmed society
is a polite society.
the police carry
the criminals steal
totally implausible
you’d be shot.

if you want to feel
so safe
in America,
you had better start building
new constitutions
get better
end poverty.
end drug wars.
you know
that’s a lot of trouble
and you have
so many guns.

you could try asking nicely
for the police,
when a gun is aimed
at you.
they’re over there

maybe you would like
only criminals;cops,
to shoot people?
wait til you get shot
by a criminal/cop.
i won’t tell you
i told you so.
when you then buy a gun
or move to Japan
where you won’t need one.