pneumonia black

Kill me!

Wouldn't it be nice if someone, just once, tried to kill me instead of telling me I have a nice ass or whatever.

Yesterday in Echo Park a man stopped me.
"I've heard Adam Young is still a virgin." he said, glancing @ my boobs (that are kinda non existing)
"Whaddaya mean?"
"I mean" he explained "his penis is like a letter with no address. It never arrives."
He laughed a LONG time.

Human Rubble

(Photo: Pneumonia White)

Long time since I wrote anything here. My light is back and so is her white magic. Vanish all the nightmares and makes me do that awkward facial expression called "smiling".

Cheap blowjobs

@ Sunset Blvd. The ladies @ the blow dry bar just offered me a free blowjob since I, apparently, “needed some volume in my life”.
“You filthy bastards!” I screamed at them and turned up the volume in my corvette.

Bad luck

“nothing but bad luck” she said.
Bad luck that the liquor store was open that day. Bad luck that Shishkin is such a genius.

Wanna rip her fucking hands off and mill the fingers. Slice her brain in pieces and mix it with the powder left from her bones and sell the paste to her husband as a very expensive, miracle anti-aging cream.

And when he complaines about its ineffectiveness I will say that's just bad luck.

Tesla

I sit in a sports bar watching “strongest man alive”. You grab your burger with both hands, tryin to stuff it into your mouth. I do the same with my glass.

“You know Tesla?” you say, pickles peeking out from your mouth. I nod.
“Did you know” you whispers “that you can kill an animal with alternating current?” I look him straight in the eyes.
“Did you know” I say “that I AM alternating current!”

Have a smoke

My doctor suggested I should quit smoking.
"Will it make me live longer?" I asked.
"Yes." He replied.
"Then it's out of question."

I swallow pills just as good as they swallow me

"Let’s go out. Stood alone on the street. I really thought that it would be refreshing. I really thought that I could shape the situation. But the situation didn’t want to shape after me. Unconscious dream state. I couldn’t breathe. Didn’t hear a word of what he said. Just noise, empty phonetics. I'm making up my own dialogue.

I will be back

Just need to get clearer contrasts.

Swinging bodies, new walls.

To fade or to burn out and so on..

White thoughts

I’m a living dead, I no longer fucking exist. Just wanna leave, dunno where. Burn a whole in my head with the smell of summer meadow. The plastic bag is shining of happiness.

Gonna die in a fire, or live in a hole.

(And I intend to pee in that hole.)

Point and shoot

I wanna tear off Lara Stone's perfect head, put it in a jar with formaldehyde and place it in my bookshelf right next to Kafka.

My life's gonna end up in flames. This is a story written decades ago. My life's gonna end. I sleep in granny's Gucci, her pistol in my hand.

I didn't set the rules. I never signed up for this. So what THE FUCK can I do when all the intruders are wearing my face?

Dirt

How everything repeats. My days have become so obvious that they're on the border to pathetic (but I think I passed that line years ago). Going through my head, what I’ve done/said/who I’ve fucked. How the speed sweat is running down my back. My pupils. My manic staring saucer pupils. Bare with me.

Syzygy

I was living with an old lady who always took steps twice the length of mine even though she was only half my height. She spoke to me in a way I couldn't understand. A green membrane began to grow on my body, I madly tried to rub it off but it was impossible to prevent her soul from taking mine over. There were people everywhere, I screamed for help until I coughed blood, but they just looked at me like I was a fucking lunatic (I'm never a superhero in my dreams).

Then I woke up, stared at the reflection of my kaleidoscopic green eyes.

At least, the bloodstaines were fake.

Book

Haze

I'm a car crash. I'm a natural disaster. I'm a plane losing height, breaking the water in an explosion that violates the silence.

I'm that last resigned, forever unheard prayer.

Ocean

I’m an octopus that's been washed ashore by a storm.

I lie there and expose my limbs, my suction cups.

People pass: ”Too many suction cups, too many impressions.” They say.

But that’s just because they don’t tolerate salt water.

Seven ways to kill yourself

Put a pistol in your mouth, close your blind eyes and pull the trigger / steal a syringe from a homeless drug addict and inject poison with it / dress up in your best Lady Gaga meat dress and provoke a predator / eat a thousand mars bars in one sitting / shave your hair and beard and slit your wrist to “Needle in the Hay” / fall in love with Edward Cullen / jump off the Statue of Liberty.

Beloje More

Mind rushes. Mind kills.

Children and toys fall from burning buildings, land on the blood soiled ground. Organs begin to grow. Spine, heart, lung. I try to pick them like flowers. Magic mushroom tray.

Oh god please kill me.

Rape me.

Eat my cunt.

Me and Polina masturbate in the woods. My brother and I run through the fog; a carpet of rotten leaves under our bare feet.

The disease is in our blood, already planted in our filthy genes.

These bonds can't be broken, these bonds can't be denied.

And it's the darkest of times. An eternal dawn shades my pale, russian, tormented face.

Sun sun sun in my eyes

5 AM. The streets are decorated with leftovers from the night that's just passed: empty bottles, teens crying, beaten dogs breathing heavily (their foggy eyes awakes more sympathy within me than the banged and abandoned girls' striped cheeks).

This city shows no mercy, it doesn't apologize. It's like standing in front of a broken mirror and suddenly distinguish an equal broken grin on your own, tanned face.

I walk "home", buy painkillers at the drugstore, steal a bottle of liquor and some sweets.

I've clearly stopped thinking.

But I don't mind.