#AmericanWriters #1977 #LoveIsADogFromHell
they don’t make it the beautiful die in flame— suicide pills, rat poison, rope, w… ever... they rip their arms off,
sitting on a 2nd-floor porch at 1:… while looking out over the city. could be worse. we needn’t accomplish great things…
That night I managed to get 2 or 3 drinks into Cecelia. She forgot herself and crossed her legs high and I saw some good heavy flank. Durable. A cow of a woman, cow’s breasts, cow’s eye...
she wore a platinum blond wig and her face was rouged and powder… and she put the lipstick on making a huge painted mouth and her neck was wrinkled
now more and more all these people running around wearing the American Flag Shirt and it was more or less once assum… think but I’m not sure)
Lila Jane was a girl my age who lived next door. I still wasn’t allowed to play with the children in the neighborhood, but sitting in the bedroom often got dull. I would go out and walk...
there waas a rock-and-mud slide on the Pacific Coast Highway and… detour and they directed us up int… and traffic was slow and it was ho… we were lost.
the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break
more wasted days, gored days, evaporated days. more squandered days, days pissed away,
sway with me, everything sad— madmen in stone houses without doors, lepers steaming love and song frogs trying to figure
neither does this mean the dead are at the door begging bread before
I sit here on the 2nd floor hunched over in yellow pajamas still pretending to be a writer.
I have seen an old man around town… carrying an enormous pack. he uses a walking stick and moves up and down the streets with this pack strapped to his bac…
my goldfish stares with watery eye… into the hemisphere of my sorrow; upon the thinnest of threads we hang together, hang hang hang
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronad… I used to get drunk and throw the radio through the wi… while it was playing, and, of cour… it would break the glass in the wi…