Sunday, January 31, 2016


Ooh, Spank Me, Amadeus!

I am the Marquis de Sadness,
heart blatantly on sleeve (tat
tooed underneath in case of
sleevelessness), loving every
lugubrious minute of it.  Pre-

sently, the sound that the 
pornography makes is as 
equidistant from me as either 
hopes or fears.  Present circum-

stances disallow my comfort
zone from being swallowed
up like a very ripe banana.
Sure, you can say “I told you
so,” only to be eaten by a

velociraptor in the morn-
ing (maƱana).  Try not to
tell me so afterwards be-
cause I already ate the

future just to get here in
time to tell you this now.