The day I became a writer it wasn't the day a whore paid me in sexing exchange for one of my books which often happened and more and mores time went unit wasn't the first time someone actually paid for one of my books which happens less and less as time goes unit was the day I realized that everything is created by mango, Satan, Judas, phobias, excrement, even death even women everything is created by Manson I said to myself shit, let me make something let me tape together some words and sentence sand prose and predicate sand the residual shit that sticks to my ass after I wipe and compose a new kind of thing But then I realized that others had discovered this for themselves as Welland suddenly the world became a jungle Where everyone eats each other alive And shits out the same shit

Wanderlust and the Whiskey Bottle Parallel: Poems and Stories