To be Southern is to be Masochist..

We chase maggots through the wet tunnels of every heart wound.
We wear our sins strung across the chest...
blood on the pearls.
Hang pills from the earlobes.
Circle the wrists with ribbons of tears.
Crunch feet into broken glass slippers.
Every sucking sweet pain...
a public jewelry.


Oh, why am I here putting poems on this fucking thing? Still at the office..all my work is done. There is a party waiting...friends, drinks, jokes.....
Time to put on a pretty face and float out the door on a magic carpet of cool.