Grace Krilanovich

What would happen if you harness the sexual energy of hobo junkie teens ? The world would explode and settle on the surface of another planet in a brown paste, is what. Cockroaches would lick it up and a new wave of narcissistic gypsy-slut shitheads would hatch out of tiny pores on their backs.

Blood blood blood on the batheroom spigot in a diner, a big branch way up high on top of an aisle at Safeway. Piles of anything. Bees with orange and brown strips lurked in the upper leaves of redwood trees over our camp ; yellow jackets ate out of a pie plate on the picnic table. When they got close they gazed at me with dreamy metallic alien stares while they slurped goo through straw mouths. The forest was orange and brown. My eyes were full up with darkness, making my eyelids itch and fight to close.

The sun is setting. The hobbo vampires are waking up, their quest for crank and blood is just beginning. Over the course of the night they will roam the area surrounding the train stop looking for warm bodies to suck, for cough syrup to fuel a night of debauched sexual encounters with fellow vampires and mortal alike. They distribute sexually transmitted diseases like the daily newspaper but they will never succumb, they will never die, just aging into decrepit losers inside a teenage shell.

We couldn't even hear our own voices as we called out each other from our sidewalk posts across town. The fog choked us, erased our eyes and rubbed out our brains with stricken white memories that crawled and crept along streets like a pregnant rat waiting to birth tiny, rain-soaked cottonballs. We spat-out poison soaked memories on the sidewalk.

"I always wanted to be the kind of person who likes that band," a guy in the audience said.

LE SAFEWAY AU LEVER DU SOLEIL : nous entrons comme un ouragan; complètement défoncés, nous courons vers le fond, les coulisses. Nous barricadons la porte pour que Josh puisse menacer l’employé. Que se passerait-il si on jugulait l’énergie sexuelle des ados hobos junkies? Le monde exploserait et se poserait à la surface d’une autre planète sous la forme d’une page brune, voilà ce qui se passerait. Les cafards la lécheraient et une nouvelle vague de connards de putes de vagabonds narcissiques éclorait dans les minuscules pores de leur dos.

I was drunk enough to fuck some way no two people had ever fucked before.

Dans ce monde, il n’y a pas de limites, pas de joints ou pas de coutures, seulement des coins arrondis sans fin - les contours sableux de l’enfer.

Ils ont le sens du devoir pour ce qui est des drogues et des orgasmes - deux addictions qui vont de pair et décident de chacun de leurs gestes.

"Nous ne possédons que ce qui se trouve à l'intérieur", il a dit en désignant sa poitrine. Voilà ce que nous possédons : nos pensées, orange et malsaines. Tu ne les nourris que de chagrin et elles grandissent et les étoiles sortent et tu es le Roi de ta propre île de la Nuit!