Summer comes
again. She is a bubble
of big tits, blonde hair.
She promises fun,
dumb fun, simple,
wet and sticky
licks of cotton candy,
and the roar of the slip and slide.
But she's a bitch,
and she's a liar.
"This journal is not a mere literary diversion. The further I progress, reducing to order what my past life suggests, and the more I persist in the rigor of composition--of the chapters, of the sentences, of the book itself--the more do I feel myself hardening in my will to utilize, for virtuous ends, my former hardships. I feel their power." --Jean Genet
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