kat/raymi at magicpony

september 29 2000

always stick around for one more drink. sat like a buddha behind a desk. the war paint of punk. he was very much a gentleman he tipped his hat and bowed in greeting. i’m your superhero the sentimental gentleman. as neat as pie crust lazy cuss. tomorrow you sit aptly, brief and tragically squandered alone alone alone this is bad poetry and there you are over there immersed in yourself.

raymi fake-licking angelo‘s puke off the patio.

mad dash for the train huff’n puff’n gone. the sun reflecting off the faces of the am dwellers feigning sleep and absorbing their surroundings somewhat subconscious level once the train stops at the final destination they will hup to as if stung and catch the contagious madrushed frenzy ratrace what a life everyday same thing i see the same thing im 17 and i know this they will go home to the suburbs sad and unwanted. i try to stagger from a distance but it is of no use this riot doesn’t quit the pounding of the morning street echoes off the benches and windows of the buildings there is sunshine and steam and a coating of chills encircle my legs sitting and waiting until it is time to move again.