vomit is maturing.
it is sad. vomit is maturing. growing up. he showed me a poem he had written.
i never knew vomit wrote poetry. such a good person. now. discovering the
foolish mistakes of his past. he is dying. such a hard life. having lived
so long on the streets. so young. no longer a life to get drunk. fucked. a
life now fading. (though he looked so good in sf. so much better than new
orleans. there is still hope left. so jane. and i. and clover. and all of
us do. hope).
muse@musespace.com