After going clear for a whole long day, after the eruption of kinetic slavery
she finally rests in the car shed.
Her smile smelling like burning diesel,
her body still shaking from the molestation of human miseries.
She carries all these masochistic pieces of wrong evolutions to places…
But this car shed is all she got to spend long sexless nights.
I am also clueless from running through the charcoaled alleyes of this happening endeavor…
I am going to put down all my bullet proof jackets and all these loaded arms here
and I am going to get a starless sleep under her shaved wheels.
There’s nothing sadistic in the action of putting fuels on your fire…
Only in this case she is the fire…and I am one barrel full of miserable life…
One barrel of uncharacteristic solidarity.

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Photograph: Melissa Fague.