Taco Night
Hey Coach
- I find myself unimpressed with Taco Nite. I used to really like it, but now I'm like, "Eh... it's food, isn't it?"

- My good friend from school is leaving tomorrow to go back home. It's okay, though. Pratt Institute isn't for everybody.

- New Room is the best room. I never want to leave. I bought a Glade air freshener that makes the room smell like an upscale juice shop where they put papayas and mangoes in everything.

- Moving out of the old room is still a giant pain in the ass. I cleaned out my desk, bookcase, and ¿closet?, but have yet to tackle the wild and untamed under-the-bed region.

- I have yet to read Tropic of Cancer. I really need to get off my ass and do it.

I'm Glad I'm Not a Baby Scorpion
Well. I am.

- Second semester is pretty okay. I rather enjoy my class on how to properly compose a short story
- There is trash EVERYWHERE.
- Is it just me, or is winter in the Big Apple a goddamn fight for your life?
- I discovered a Pathmark in the Atlantic Terminal. So there's that.
- Going to pre-order Pokemon Black on Friday.
- Moving to a different room tomorrow. It will have a balcony, a private bathroom, and my very own internet jack. I have vowed not to shower again until I can do so in my new room.

Could a baby scorpion say any of that?

G is for Garbage, T is for Trash
So Very Happy
It's been awhile.

-Writing School is a pain in the ass.
-I eat nothing but White Castle and pizza.
-It's cold in New York and I don't have a coat.
-I bought Halloween-themed silly bandz.
-I haven't showered in over a week.

The only reason I logged back on was so I could use this icon.

This Was a Triumph...
The Satisfactory Gatsby
Graduated early.
Got into the university of my dreams.
Moving to Brooklyn in August.
That's about it.

In other news:



Everybody Knows...
The Satisfactory Gatsby

That it's my birthday. Now where's that pain?

The Satisfactory Gatsby
Always night and hardly day
O'er iron gates like vertebrae
Turrets rise like tigers' teeth
And windows watch them while they sleep
Each house a home of ill-repute
For inclination ghosts astute
Who stand by village fountains deep
And windows watch them while they sleep
Spirit feet in plothole spackle
Mud in grass to rise like grackles
So the spectres sadly creep
And windows watch them while they sleep
In taverns blue with will-o-whisp
Furnace lovers sigh and lisp
With torture cages as their seat
Windows watch them while they sleep
In absinthe parlours, wormwood arbours
Dens along the lucid harbour
Daemons tred those hazy streets
And windows watch them while they sleep
With absinthe on the tongue and brain
Melancholy brings the rain
To make graveyards yawn at mountains' feet
And windows watch them while they sleep
But in the shire of blood and bone
Black bile spirits call it home
Where faeries sigh and angels weep
And windows watch them while they sleep
Where all is late and never soon
Where nightshades dance in the Samhain moon
Where La Muerta herds his skeletal sheep
And windows watch them while they sleep

"A Comprehensive Encyclopaedia of Men Who've Fucked Me"
The Satisfactory Gatsby
Ainsley was a scholar who swallowed his class ring
Basil was a rentboy who'd swallow anything
Crawford was an overeater with a taste for pudding pie
Delaney, a mortician, unafraid to die
Earl was a philanthropist whose only love was people
Fabian, a priest, impaled on a church steeple
Gustav was a nobleman without a bit of class
Henry was a narcissist who shot rainbows out his ass
Irving, a distiller, who collected champagne corks
Jethro, a food critic, who was murdered with a fork
Karl was a Marxist, I guess it just made sense
Lawrence was a moron with a brain intensely dense
Maurice was a ripper who lost his favourite knife
Norman was a dead man when Maurice took his life
Oscar is a poet, an identity I host
Percy was a catatonic after he saw Norman's ghost
Quincy was a cobbler who'd never worn a shoe
Raymond was minutiae, a boy I barely knew
Saul was an explorer who owned a shrunken head
Truman was a cannibal who ate bile on his bread
Ulrich was a recluse who never left his room
Viktor was a smoker who puffed on thistle blooms
Waverly, tuberculoid in an iron lung
Xavier, a criminal, sentenced to be hung
Yakob was a dandy with blue eyes bright and gay
Zelda was a woman who I won't love, anyway

"Daddy's Little Girl"
The Satisfactory Gatsby
A corset made of lacy veins
With teeth inlaid as pearls
She limps and gags on gloppy clots
While scaring other girls

With hair teased high in back and sides
From seizures on the floor
With wrists that rise above her head
From pressing 'gainst the door

Stilettos made of sparrows' ribs
And soles of lovers' skin
Panties sewn with suture marks
Are wearing rather thin

Her navel is a hungry mouth
That smokes up cigarettes
Her real mouth has since atrophied
From making countless threats

She exists to make her mother cry
And give a home to ghosts
She wears her organs inside out
For the company she hosts

Pole-dancing on her IV stand
To the sounds of EKG
While feeling that her iron lung
Is a boring place to be

Buboes line her neck like gems
Meningitis tans her flesh
She eats her lungs on table wafers
When she coughs up pieces fresh

She says her prayers through gaping wounds
And cries salt tears through cuts
She plays Rapunzel by herself
With a rope made from her guts

With those holes she sobs and begs
And makes a desperate plea
For a loving soul to baptize her
And take her where she needs to be

She wants to be tucked into bed
While someone clicks the light
She wants a kiss placed on her lips
While someone says goodnight

She wants a bandage for her pains
To take that shit away
She wants a voice that smells of violets
To whisper "It's okay."

She wants someone to hold her close
When she starts to come apart
Wherever shall she find this love?
I point to my heart

A corset made of lacy veins
With teeth inlaid like pearls
She looks the best just as she is
She's Daddy's Little Girl

This Was a Triumph...
The Satisfactory Gatsby

Okay, I hope you know what I mean here.

His Whole Head is Beard
The Satisfactory Gatsby

It's all beard.


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