Cheap coffee flowin’ floatin’ down her breast
Mexican breakfasts, American dinners
Maya horizons of spit & semen
Antimone – clothed perfection
Her ass is of heaven – so they say
Al-Ghoul for Dionysus
Memories of dark women
Sculpted breasts of their genus
Curls of their hair in the forests
Pines of death, telegraph poles of feathers
Selling their myths to the Gypsies
No friendly hand
Hers is already burnt with compassion
Paradox lover
Red haired lady of the dunes exploding
Seaside so close
Everything’s perfectly still
Negros dancing to wooden and iron rhythms
Drunkard painters of trees
Torn apart, forbidden canvas
21st century terror of trains
Children skinned alive on the rails
Poets incrusted in vomit
Bubblegum suite
No 13th floor, no nothing
Toothless howlers of blues
Pearls of her reach, growing and young
Endless moons of touch
Her hips revealed
She is more than this village
The lonely church
The useless grieving monk
All her lovers end in this circle
Bitter sages of love
Their sex unrecognized
Bums in full-fledged aristocracy of motion
Pearly silenced oceans
Fast forward into their doom
A child’s hand, a ragged toy
What kind of a drunkard are you
The graduates must wait
Chronicles of tears
Hit the ocean, park your car
No rear-view mirror, no endings
Girls of your blueberry summer
A run for love, for permanence
Secret waves of return
Unwashed jeans
A red shirt a million years old
The plasticity of religion
Here only the primal wood
Citadels of orchids
Partisans of heaven hidden in the attic
Their guns still proud & ready
All is fine, relax
Here comes another portion
Of your secret drugs of death
Lay down by the stony bridge
The grave of a headless horse
Fuel his nostrils with panic
Her very last shivers
The lady regresses
She is now but a suggestion
No willing lip, no body
Shake the concealed tambourine
Cut off your hand
Here all you need’s a description of one
Pretty pink collocations
240 kilometers of lust
Unfinished highways of soul
Rooms of cobras & nameless voices
Calling the dove in the fog
Shrieking velvet tires
Epitome of blues
The epigones of my misfortunes
Too small in my cowboy boots
Blood, snake leather, Hard Rock Café t-shirt
Take that after-shave lotion away
Girl, I’m your favorite bum
Snow, dead paradise, whiplash
Deadlights
Phantom cars of salvation
Exit the Georgia night
Mohawk cigarettes
The journey of fingers
Take me on that bumper, she said, this bench
Smoke another one
Return to your safe little boxes
Needles, sentiments of fury
Cavalcades of drums
She enters his modest apartment
The Raja dead on the floor
Fumes of opiates
Her fear resurrected & swollen
Aeroplane Blues
That’s all she ever thinks of
Acid under her eyelids
Alighieri’s visions are nursery
Compared with the depth of her fears
Spanish lullabies
White Indian jumps
The failed actor
His sunken reluctant mistress
Artifacts of her sudden revelations
Mantras, angels, manticoras
A journey through her perfumed twilights
Frail & bedazzled, vacant
Wind territories
Sketches of a lifetime rejected
The applause of sudden seahorses
Chain a-swingin’
The feeding gets done
Dogs of haloed consumption
Cans of beans & bacon
Caviar & oysters
She wishes it could be Paris
Dead mosquito, a handclap
What kind of a drunkard are you
Measure your footsteps in gold
Blow thy silver pipes
Ears in shock of their silence
No calls, no responses
No choo-choo trains headed West
Crumbs of manana
Belly dancers
Skin as white as cocaine
Stoned German musicians
Followers of Hendrix
Vulnerable, perfect, imprisoned
Dissolving carpets, collapsing hangings
Bedouin caravans sifting through the room
Exotic melodies cascading
Flowers of a devilish taste
Let me die aware
Let me die of deception of senses
Mists of her railroads
Sweet sixteen on the run to me
Through seedy gore panoramas
I still remember her pussy trained
Sleeping on my beer-soaked body
So sweet I almost cried
Her innocent lips pressed to mine
Her hair twirling round my shoulders
Eyes as deep as her pools of soul
Forever unexplored
Insufficient wanting
Legs vibrating with the room
Chairs splattered against her walls
Victory, understanding
I wish I could see her again
Prolonged suggestion of senses
I wish I could be her wooden tower
The cornerstone of her death
Pilate, a child’s tale
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