bleach fumes, bluey biscuits and sematary at san fran

Four hours of sleep

Two things of spiro

One can of caffeine battery acid

A good sprinkle of the slightly burnt decarbed weed in the peanut butter filling of my little Bluey biscuit sandwich

Three shots out of a Daiso sake cup of Nitro, the Redline flavor

And bleach fumes from the Blingo hoodie corroding the last brain cells that keep me strong 

I cut my own holes into my sleeves to poke my thumbs out of

Eyeliner, lots of it

Too much of it

With my amateur heavy, shaking and twitching hands

I keep my head down, hands in pockets when I march my way into town

To the bright colors of the Cuba Street Mall 

And I feel my blood hum

And I live