Saturday, August 21, 2010

Mama's a mean mama, but still

none of the shit I writes is about you; it's about expunging the darkness. Maybe it'll help you expunge your darkness; maybe it'll exacerbate your darknesses. If it does encourage the darkness, that's not what I meant, that's not what I meant at all.

I will have to wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled, then.

I will have to eats a peach or the peach'll eat me.

Everyone will come & go.

I'll let them cos I just don't give a fuck and there's no love song for me & there's no love song for Homegirl; but I'm not feeling sorry for myself.

Poor Homegirl, tho.

She's been too much around the darkness; she's been left in the darkness for a while and the only flash of light in the darkness's been an ex-Marine. The ex-Marine liked strippers and cunts and pinball and Oasis, and was a hipster before there were American hipsters and Homegirl ate that shit up.

Of course.

There are no mermaids where hipsters are involved.

There is Homegirl and darkness & neither's singing each to each.

& that's it; & that's all.

Yours temporarily,

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