The Banker and the Sweep

When Death comes to your door you are dreaming. It’s the usual nightmare: you’re at the Bank. Clients are lined up to the door. They’re furious. Your assistant is quelling them, her cherubic face glowing. She hangs their camel coats, settles them into the ox blood wing-backs, offers them coffee, and smooths their ruffled feathers. […]

The Stain

i splatter this faggot poem on the wall of this notorious public toilet it is pornographic graffiti dedicated to a headless man with blue serpent tattoos who left me alone five minutes ago (if he saw me on the street he’d spit) go ahead read it you won’t catch anything it’s about my lust not […]