Drunk Dog
I sent the amber train of whiskey chugging, I sent my farewells to a place that knew me better than I knew myself.
The bottom of the barrel teaches a universal lesson. A drunk dog reveals a finger-licking faith, which is instilled into him by the genie swimming in the great seas of passion.
Lusting for self, lusting for the shadow lying on his back, strip-teasing itself at the shore of muddy waters.
Caressing himself in the drapes of his own warmth until he is reborn and dragged back to light from the abyss of that great genie he found.
The “unexplained” is where I go through my archive of secrets.
I am currently saving until I am dissolved into the crevice of nature.
God will appear again when I am distracted by the pain of life.
All art lies in man, but is by far apparent; during my time alive, I thought more about before being born, I was already dead, and during my time alive, I am more of an idea.