by Jon Leon
THE WAR WILL END
Vox Vivitar Mace. I was born in Japan. A lot of the miscellaneous telephones. I like to drive with the top down. Sure the hair is slick. Still into Armani where I like ruminate darkness. Push you out of a window in red boots. The pussy is the softest.
Nothing ever happens. Except I love my fucking life. Black rain, the very physical environment which turns me. I live in the trance of Aquarius. That is the vision. Maven unto Gods.
Essentially like wine, honey, and roses. The face doesn't look faded it looks attractive. Bronzer, sort of modern. Walking into 37th Street with a packet of fags in my pouch. Leaning into a doorway crowded with women. Everything everything everything.
I AM YOUR VIOLENCE
Reality appears to me. I mutilate it. Cool aura. I cried listening to Cat Power. That which is surrounding. That very name which is time immemorial. Nil Blanche. Dreams, paranoia, static. A signature style which is having, having not.
MIRROR TO MIRROR
Many say it is two or three themes: hookers class war. The same housing project, a bag of weed. When they take the wine-rock whores away. When they find me blacked out under the overpass with a tiny bag of coke. It is a cyclical nightmare. Impulse icon.