jumbled_and_squalid_grandeur farmfish they were sitting, the three of them, shoes untied, on the pier, pouring sand from their fingers into the sea. olive skin. green eyes. when no one seemed to be looking, they went through the dustbin at the back of andria's. it was sad, but beautiful. a glitter of sardonic amusement for what they pulled out, for what they did to the south african tourists unawares. "if i touch it, it's mine," one of them said. the words left his mouth like the fucking flies from the rubbish. i was still looking, then had to turn away. 020120 ... Grievance Jamsore strode long strides and thought himself tall. Turning the corner of the dusty street he spotted the others playing amongst the fabulous fortune of things the adults had forgotten, the junk pile. Forgetting his self importance, his tallness, he ran and leaped into the mountain, groping through and touching every filthy piece of it. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Jamsore left a black coal smudge. Jamore, was now Jamsore the Junker. A stained wallet, a broken door, and various thrown away electronics served as the beginings of his fort to be. And then he was Jamsore the Junker the Tall as he strode his long strides again toting behind him a broken door sled, housing and keeping all of his envious possesions. 020123 ... rubydee far from yesterday's longings of salvation and freedom from moral_turpitude he imbibied in yet another hit from the smoldering hash. sally had been right in his inability to withstand even a day away from the stuff. giving up shooting had its obvious benefits albeit a curse for the lungs several months later when a dealer returned from morocco carrying in his cheek. now the sticky resin clouded his vision and the world. an ether_haze. 030628 ... unhinged youngstown y_town ivet 130611 what's it to you? who go blather from