It’s been three days now, without light or nourishment.
Fingernails for food. Insanity for a friend.
I think I like it here. There’s that old feeling again.
It’s starting to smell like home.
Yes, I could really learn to love it here.

They told me to stop being so cynical.
And when that didn’t take, to go dig a hole.
So I did. We all played in traffic as kids.
A review of jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge.
Intense but you already know how it ends.

Have you heard the good news?
We’re parodying ourselves now!
Time to learn the art of caricature.
Our Ouroboros knew Burroughs personally.
“He” is written.

The #6 at White Bear is people. As one does.
Rooting for the bad guy is sooooo 2016.
I wish the characters ate their director.
My other bumper sticker is a camera.
Trespassers will be fed to the chimera.

How did they find me here?

Wind Die, You Die, We Die by TVO