I believe in the beauty of ripped stockings,
black lungs, black lipstick, black coffee,
and cats who can’t wait for the night to turn caustic,
go bare-knuckle jukeboxing,
throw back shots for all the washed-up rock prophets
who left us in the cold to hold each other hostage,
and swap kisses for the class of Getting 86ed Too Often.
Fuck talking,
I want to see the blood of Nancy Spungen come gushing out the faucet.
I want to melt into those always lawless Motor City mosh pits,
but the bouncers that I used to fuck have moved on out to Austin.
I guess they just got sick of all the shit that I was lauding.
I guess it happened far too often.
If I’m ever passing through maybe I’ll call them.
I hear the sunrise there is awesome.
I hear the sunsets there are awesome.
Kevin Hinman is a Southern California writer and rapper, and my fiction and features have appeared in Temenos, blink-ink, Newtown Literary, and Mojo magazine.
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