It was a dark and stormy night.Rafael smelt the encrusted coffee curled around his kneecap. Around the vicinity of the stain, the indigo dirt blue of the jeans now tended towards the pale afterburn glow of the acrylic. The music throbbed within his interior cranium like he was connected to it in a blue blue blue night mask of muslin and silk jewel rustblack carbon it being the blue blood raging in his veins as he strained his arm his neck his back his spine his calves his skin in cold starlight calm light years out of his mind. The needles called for celebrations. The autumn was nigh. The Velvet Underground drew on Jean Genet for inspiration. These words are solely for my own gratification. Attention in this instance is dead shorn of desire black and unwelcome.
Will you be mine
Will you be mine
Sang the minstrel of his love
As violins screamed of lost maelstroms solemn Afrikan serums mindfucked and alone crying on wet and cold blue bathroom tiles in dirty downtown Tokyo













An iota of winter and frozen sweat. Six nine six nine six nine six nine six nine six nine six nine went the groove whistling in the cobalt black night. Fog whispered around the street lights. Cars cruised by in alien abandon at speeds nearing 623 kmph. The air reeked of decarbonated ultrapure ecopetrol, and his girlfriend’s Moroccan perfume. Salvador would have approved.