"limp lines resign themselves to margins. like a drunken vampire, i miss the sun. i killed this summer, now it's done. let's split and reconvene in a warmer space. i'm scratching my head turning nights into days. don't talk to me about boredom. don't talk to me about pride. i sucked it all up, i swallowed it down. it's fine. gangrene hangs on every word. bullshit endings to stories unheard. it's unheard of to me to not fathom doom. so, what did you find in my emperor's tomb? some notebooks, some tee-shirts, some bad spelling errors. strangled syntax, broken bottles and chairs. this here is my legacy. i leave all of this to thee. drink at the funeral. piss on the corpse. yell at the sun till your voice is all hoarse. i'm gone. this is good bye. dead as a dream beneath a grey chicago sky...."
|A Boring Story|
"no more smile and no more outrage
apathy pervasive emotions narcoleptic
no more smiles since fucking sunday
sinking feelings drinking early stinking septic..."
|A Guided Tour Of Chicago|
"he shuffled up a pair of surfer slippers and an old tweed blazer. asked you for a quarter and you looked the other way. he leaned up against the tow zone sign and just in time for you to avert your eyes said "good morning sir. have a nice day." she wears four wool winter hats all year round and mumbles and sometimes screams. he wears a coat made of burlap sacks and sits in parking lots, never asking anyone for anything. he's the old black guy with the shopping cart. she's the old lady with the bright blue sweat pants. they're the two young white squatter kids with dirty undershirts and rotten teeth. he's the guy who hangs out underneath the overpass shouting curse words at passing motorists, or the guy who passed in my alley, who drank until his life made any sense. he's the hustler on the train. or his four accomplices, living on three tattered playing cards and slight hand. he's darron in front of 7-11 on walton and state. she's babs up and down on belmont right by the train. he's buddy and his wife in uptown, by the aragon, he's andy selling streetwise at the white hen in boys town. he was ed from southside who gave me cigarettes and hope at wallgreens on belden and clark where inspiration dies alone. yeah, these are the people in your neighborhood. they're the people you don't see when you're walking down the street. they're the people you don't see each day..."