I Weird Myself Out, You Weird My My Self Out

We’re talking about passion here. There is a fine fishing line between baiting a hook and baiting your breath. Even more so a fine power line between keeping the lights on and burning your furniture. We are talking about passion; hear?

– Joshua Tool 07/21/13


Sunshine & Rainbows

I regret nothing; for I am small as the mountains feeling up the plates in the seas first moon date

We hangout in graveyards and speak a dead language

I felt you up next to my grandfathers headstone, as we got stoned to life from shooting stars

Wishing upon blinks of light, like the fleeting of a birthday candles last flicker before you push your cheek’s pockets of air into its brilliant bright

And then… We had our cake and made our bed

I found you spooning the fresh soil and forking my mind

We washed our hands in a gas station bathroom and ate from the bosom of time

The loose speckles of dirt bled from our hands and fingernails as we lathered each other up in a cusp of sudsy brine

It doesn’t get more gangster than black on black Cadillacs lined up outside your bedroom window

Soon I’ll think of the shape of your legs when I cater to the dawns early light

Soon I’ll touch your nose with my nose and stare into your hazel eyes

I regret nothing; because you are Mother Earth and I am Father Time