Chicago parasite. Pink/green mop. ”PIn-CUSHION.” They. Pathological nightmare. Bartender by trade, lizArd folk by blood, empty goBlet by dawn. Liquid lustings for pointy shoes, insects hidDen beneath Piles of garbage, boDily fluids, clowns and Their mOthers, skin peeling back, flesh tones, cigs in the rain, collecting moldy fruit, fishnets stuck in scabs, rodent nibbles, Spineless Impulse fueled by gripping alcoholism and bruised shins and a brain stuffed with maggots and a comfort in the taste of my own blood. Slither Into my coffin. The spice of life looms within the twist of a knife. Now and forever, Simply Gagged.