This is the beginning of a true story that happened not long ago. We begin our tale with Peter. In this story Peter finds his way to heaven and becomes a Saint.

He was sick as fuck. It was a cold, wet, black night. The perfect night to get fucked up. He had just spent his last twenty on dope that was supposed to be fire. Where to go though? Good thing he knew about Paradise Alley. The one place in the city, the scum of society could go to get fucked, fucked up, commit a violent crime and die in peace. It was like a graveyard not even the pigs knew of it’s existence. Downtown already reeked of consumerism and death. So a few rotting whores stinking up that block nobody really noticed. The only crime scene to have taken place in Paradise Alley were the gulls pecking flesh straight off the bone while the doves cooing their approval because it’s a well known fact that wild birds despise humans. He hopped on the bus, his hands quivering with an innate excitement. He had done this bit before, it was only natural. It had been days since he had gotten off. Had anything remotely resembling a feeling of happiness. It was a short ride from the bus stop across from his dealers house. He jumped off at third, fidgeting, caressing halfway finger fucking the stash in his pocket.
Almost there, five more blocks. It was hella busy downtown, protesters waving green flags, fuck the war lighting up joints, people chanting, blue haired teenagers lost wedged up on blocks. Children playing with marbles while parents zoned out on technology.
He was shaking like mad, his shoes dirty as fuck. The only thought that crossed his mind was, Oh God, Oh God, please let me hit a vein. Let me fucking hit. He wondered if he looked as fucked as he felt. Finally he made it to the edge of Paradise Alley, the stench of rotting corpses overwhelmed his senses, cleared up the voices in his head.

As soon as he stepped into the alley, the outside world disappeared. It all came down to tunnel vision a purity of purpose a focus you find in very few places in life. God just let me hit. Peter Hugo was in hell, scared that this was the closest to heaven that he was ever going to get. He sat down on a toolbox next to a skull that he thought belonged to someone he used to know. He took off his jacket, pulled out his gear and tied off. He gave a not so silent hallelujah as the blood blossomed in the rig and as he felt the pins and needles spread from behind his eyes he heard at what he thought at first was kittens that someone had thrown in a dumpster. People did that from time to time especially at the dumpster behind the Korean restaurant.
Peter ignored the mewing at first, he just wanted to rest in the darkness. The sound came again, this time it was urgent. It was coming from over there, so he got up on his hands and knees, brushed the bit of dried blood off his pants and listened.
It sounded like a baby but what the fuck was a baby doing in Paradise Alley? Peter stood up, half nodded and went to investigate. In between two piles of filth lay a woman, she was clearly dead. She looked young, even in death she was beautiful. She was on her back, blood everywhere. On her naked torso looked like stab wounds and her throat slit. Peter’s heart stopped, he vomited and wiped his eyes. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen, a child. He looked around wildly searching for whatever had made that cry and as he looked to his right, he found the source. A dirty baby, a newborn flailing gurgling face down on top of a yellow suitcase. Peter ran with a quickness and tenderly picked the baby up. It was a little girl, pale, bruised, naked and frightened. Her eyes blackened, her hair non existent. Her fists clenching the air as if trying to claw her way out of this reality she had found herself in. Peter looked around and found not what he was looking for. He had no clue on what to do. He bent over with the screaming infant in the crook of his left arm and opened up the suitcase. It was full of money, what looked like millions. Stacked and bound in what looked like leather cord. Also, there were bones, it appeared to be human bones.

dr death and the dryad

He was the worst one, they called him the little angel of death. Some called him sir, doctor, please don’t some cried. Those who showed weakness were killed instantly. When they separated her from her mother kicking and screaming, they dragged her away as she heard her mother yell, ” Be brave, be strong. I love you.” She fought back the bile, the strawberries she had for breakfast and passed out in the arms of a handsome man. As she looked into his eyes, she saw her childhood, little did she know. it was the childhood of the child before that looked into his eyes. That handsome man gouged out the eyes of that child, held them in his hand and licked the tiny sliver of blood left behind.
He said nothing to her, she felt safe yet weary of his presence. He took her to a room in the back of a gray building, there was a line of women, mother’s with babies, toddlers clenching their fists in their mouths, red faces streaked with tears. She looked up at the handsome man who smiled down on her, motioned for her to go up to the woman with the razor in her left hand. The process took about forty nine seconds, she watched as the first tendril with a family of lice drop on her nose. She whispered to them, “Remember me.”
But the bitch in her jack boots flung the family of lice into the fire.

The handsome man picked her up, she felt naked maybe it was because that obese cunt stole her beautiful hair. The handsome man told her to hush, hush. She didn’t realize her reality. It was comforting in his arms though she smelled blood. She grew wet, she missed her mother. That sickly sweet smell was her mother. It smelled like fourteen roses in a patch of dirt infested with half dead rats trying to crawl away. She squeezed his neck as he cradled her ass, squeezing her secrets.

Her secrets, She was a princess the princess of the woods next to the camp of death. Her people lovers, they knew nothing of war or pain. They lived peacefully in tall dark trees. She was connected to the great tree of Zwis. Zwis was mother, her mother burning now was mother second. Mother second was mother loved. Mother loved was now mother dead.


She woke up sick as fuck, at least this trick had a truck. She pulled on her hello kitty sweatshirt and faux fur tan boots and lit a cigarette without underwear. She wasn’t moving until this motherfucker told her to go.

She found a joint in the armchair of the bed bug infested couch and lit it up with the last match she found in her twat. Sigh… tasted like cherries.


She wore a red dress to get wasted with the drag queens on friday night.
Milton and his boyfriend Bradley poured the best drinks, stiff like dicks but hella sweet once you got to know them.
She danced the night away shaking her mid thirties booty to classics like highway to hell and roll another joint
She drank nothing but vanilla vodka shots and red bull.
She looked like shit for her age
The court case didn’t help much
Her baby daddy was a devil on her back
Always calling for Benjamin and forgiveness
She had really nobody but at least she tried
to get along go along


Tanuk grasped the handle of the kitchen knife
She looked at it’s beauty as the sun woke up
Glimpsed her reflection in the window
Sighed, cut her wrists a couple times
Almost like a teaser, seducing her woe
She looked like shit, felt worse, her hair
A mess this early, no one to impress
In a couple of hours, it will be back
To reflecting on depression amidst dolls
On torn sofas, her boyfriend lost his job
Again no surprises there, right?

Tanuk plopped herself down on the curb
Took a deep breath and drank from her 40oz
It wasn’t even nine yet and she was looking
For a fight, in her ripped tights, ripped right
Rightfully from years of abuse

It was a lonely existence, drinking by herself
A black lighter by her side, yellow socks
Gold slippers, faded tattoo on her right hand
Off to go sell clothes downtown
Maybe sell herself if the right moment
Comes to pass, has a knife just in case
Some Bundy comes along with his arm
In a sling, vw broke down pretending to be
Hurt, help me
It’s been almost 40 years since he started
He’s dead now but there’s always a copycat
Lurking in the shadows


Tanuk finished her cheap ass beer, stood up
To face the gloomy day that lay ahead
Up above her once positive brow
Slathered on some more red lipstick
Cocked her throat back, lunged forward
Spit! Oh! That was a good one
It flew about five feet
Checked to see if she dropped anything
Of an emotionless importance
None available, invisibility in check
Walked up to the stroll
Daring a motherfucker in his red midlife
Crisis chick magnet vehicle to fuck with
Her once, come on I dare you asshole
Get me and get yours
Tanuk was fucking pissed
The beer helped, it usually does

Tanuk went into the ultra rich hipster store
Bought herself a Fearless Mjolnir
An imperial pale ale, normally not
At all what she likes but she has found if she
Tries new things, she might find a favorite
So she smoked and drank
Like a virgin prom queen on ecstasy
Reveled in her small freedom
Made faces with birds on totem poles
Took off down the street doing what Tanuk
Does best

On her way to God knows where
She met an old man who just came back
From a drinking binge on top of a
Floating Lake in bum fuck Idaho
She bummed a smoke, they both looked
Out at the water, kids laughing and playing
Giggling themselves to pieces
Making fools out of themselves in front
Of birds










Last year at this very moment Tanuk was driving across country in a stolen U haul with a homeless man and an infant she rescued from the trash in a Wendy’s bathroom. They were on their way to the beautiful beaches of California to find the homeless man’s daughter who he hadn’t seen in over sixteen years. All he knew about her was that she had a boyfriend named Plato, lived near Venice and worked as a veterinarian’s assistant. The baby was a little boy who Tanuk decided not to report the incident, the poor little thing just needed a vacation so she wrapped his tiny body up in her burning man sweatshirt, applied some lipstick stole a purse and drove straight to Walmart for a carseat. She named him Always . Always and forever. Tanuk woke up, Always sleeping in his car seat on the floor of the motel room. He snored loud for a tiny baby. The homeless man was gone probably getting shitfaced by himself somewhere. Today had been a long drive, she had accidentally run over a sick owl in the middle of the road. The homeless man saw it first screamed, “Look out!” It was useless and the homeless man was pissed. He was godawful with humans but had this interstellar love pact cosmic we are one thing with animals

travel information

I have lived in the most strangest of places, I have had fun in some but most have made me want to die. It’s been hot, It’s been cold and sometimes perhaps I had been naked, I don’t suppose maybe that one day that has never come to pass that it will all end and I won’t have to worry anymore about an already uncertain future. Adventure can be tedious, everyone is the same everywhere and yesterday can go fuck itself. However the possibilities outweigh both the negative and the positive. It could be like this if only it were not like that. It’s a depressing fantasy. Be grateful for what you have, those precious things have a tendency to disappear. The carnival of the banal, how are you over and over though nobody cares unless you have something they want in copious amounts. It’s all fine and dandy until they believe their fun is about to run out then it’s awkward and uncomfortable.


Polly was a weirdo, she liked to watch me sleep
She lived in a suitcase on the corner of my street
Polly was a danger, dangerous to herself
She had printed copies of the directions to hell
Polly wore her hair in ratty tatty buns
She poked herself with needles, her only way to run
Polly was a dreamer, she dreamed dreadful dreams
She never liked to talk about those awful things
Polly wrapped her lipstick in dollar store rubber bands
She counted Tuesday backwards on the palm of her left hand
Polly hated crackers, she never really ate
She dined on cotton swabs and self taught hate
Polly went to heaven at the age of thirty nine
She was a really good friend of mine


I am dirty a sexy piece of filth I hate those stories about how people bitch about where they came from. It’s over it’s gone get the fuck over it. Who gives a fuck if you grew up in a hovel made of daddy’s condoms mommy’s rotten breast milk and the bones of your grandmother crunching underneath chairs? Yes you may be choking on a thick dick wishing it was a Carmel Lilly pop. Has he even told his wife? Oh wait, he can’t you killed her two weeks ago. Remember? You became her friend via social network and invited her out for drinks and made out with her in the bathroom. Just as she was about to come you slit her pretty little throat. You wore those gloves those pretty fox fur. Expensive like walnut flour. I love to kill people they die because I have the power to make them dead. It’s all bittersweet how I like my nights my chocolate my murders. I hate myself but I’m beautiful I am I have been told by many I have a pretty face the skeleton of an angel. I like to burn them stab them watch finger tips glow to hear them scream it’s my lullaby I can’t help it it’s my destiny my dust. My boyfriend has no idea I am in love with my boyfriend he is the police chief his name is Jasper Crow he loves me he said so.

It was Saturday night I had just sold a painting I wanted to celebrate someone needed to die so I went out in my half price Stella I never kill in Prada I can’t afford it. I ordered a double gin and tonic flirted with drunk eyes loose lips sweaty thighs hard dick black tongue and Mac and Jacks. Then I found him my victim a 65 year old fisherman named Dale who was depressed over losing his girlfriend in 1978. She drowned in a river I gave him a shoulder a stranger bone to cry on. He really needed to die Dale. It was the least I could do.

Memory 312

It had been a long day trying to make enough money to get the fuck out of that hell of a town. Beer is cheap down in California, two bucks for three tall boys. A good deal if you think about it. I was dirty I hadn’t bathed in four days. I was still traumatized after finding that box of dead kittens in the parking lot at Denny’s. I needed the sweet harshness of alcohol to wash down the memory of those cold defenseless corpses. I never knew dead kittens had such cute ears. We sat on the curb waiting we waited it was hot I was hungry I thought we were going to die in that town full of Swedish Mennonites. I had just finished my last beer when a bright purple Bentley pulled up to the gas station. The driver’s door opened and out waltzed the biggest guy I’ve ever seen. He was strutting with all those chains and had a pimping suit on,  I wondered what he did for a living. I watched him walk inside and I told my boyfriend I’d be right back. I walked in and stood behind the successful business man as he bought a pack of Marlboro Menthol’s and complimented him on his orange shoes. He turned around smiled and I asked him for money. He threw his head back and laughed. He then pulled out his wallet and pulled out three hundred dollars. He told me to keep it real that he’s never had someone with the balls let alone a vagina ask him for money. He patted me on my almost dread locked hair and walked out still chuckling. I bought a pack of Lucky Strikes and another beer stuffed 285 bucks in my bra and walked outside.

Memory 46

You know how you forget certain things for a long time then all of a sudden the memory pops up in your head at the weirdest time?

Well one time I was in San Francisco with my boyfriend and we were looking for cocaine. Nothing spectacular or too expensive just a couple lines each. So yeah, yeah it was my birthday and I wanted to get fucked up. So we took a bus, I was wearing a fur jacket I had bought for thirty bucks at the Goodwill and a slinky number that suited the slut in me just fine. We first went to a gay bar where I gorged myself on rum and Kamel Reds and as I got drunker and drunker I wanted cocaine but didn’t know where to get some. We walked and walked I was screaming at bricks and flipping people off. When we came to a hole in the wall Mexican bar. I walked right in self assured and horribly self conscious. Got a seat at the bar and ordered the biggest margarita they had to offer. Looked around at all the people looking at me wondering what the fuck a little white piece of ass was doing there. Then it happened. A guy came up pony tail tear drop tattoo dark eyes and all. Looked at my boyfriend and said you looking for something? I said self assured that we was looking for coke the bartender nodded and the guy with the pony tail gave us speed. I’m not one for the high of methamphetamine but hell how many chances does one get to be in this that type of situation? I did a line or two for the experience and those couple lines nearly killed me. But that’s another story.

Zookii And The Chocolate Tadpoles

The walls were made completely out of Peacock feathers. Wonderland Asylum was indeed a fascinating place. It was somewhere I’d never want to go again but they had good cheese dip. My crime was loitering in front of the Queen’s haberdasher. I was just standing there in the standard way. Minding my own business carrying a gun a pry bar and a sledgehammer. For some reason, as soon as I told the clerk at the haberdashery to give me all the loot or I’d make her dead. There was suddenly much shouting and to do. The next thing I knew the Queen screamed ” Off to the Looney bin!”

The Guard ducks quacked among themselves as they threw me on the floor and gagged me with fresh kitten glitter. I was maced and tased.. They tossed me into a big white van that had a disco ball. The mean old platypus driving the van wasn’t so much driving per say but was pointing the vehicle in an unknown direction while crocheting a hookah cozy for the caterpillar.

The platypus started the engine with his teeth and drove for what seemed to be thirty three minutes. We stopped once to buy an apple from a little old lady on the road. The Salamander that bought the apple took a bite had a grand mal seizure and died frothing in the passenger seat. The platypus kicked his corpse out at the stop sign in front of the elementary school.

When we arrived at Wonderland, I was greeted by a sight far from what I had imagined. Instead of the Gothic gargoyle drenched chamber of horrors before me stood a building of iridescent absurdities.

I was a bit embarrassed to get out of the van since I was dressed in a wedding dress covered in some poor bastards blood. But as I was hog tied and gagged, I didn’t really have much of a choice. So when the platypus dragged me out of the van I flopped like fish to make my experience a bit more exciting. I flopped so hard that I bumped my head and woke up in the Tea Party Medical Ward.

I was woken up to be given my pills which looked suspiciously like a cherry gummi bear and an everlasting gobstopper by a six foot Teddy Bear in thigh high black stiletto boots.

The bear was a nurse. Frau Malice. She couldn’t speak but she sure knew how to talk shit in sign language. I could understand of course what she was saying with her fuzzy hands because of all those classes at the community college. The acid bender I went through sure helped me lose my virginity to Claudia but that’s a different story.

My first trip to the day room was also the first time I met Irwin. He was the first invisible person that I had ever seen. Irwin was wearing a paper bag smock that he decorated in red anarchist sharpie sayings such as, ” More Cheese Dip” or ” Free the Llamas”.

Irwin had committed a horrible crime of misjudgment. He had accidentally ran over a family of three blind mice crossing the road to buy a chicken.

Also in the day room was Rupert. Rupert thought that he was a llama but it was quite clear to everybody else that he was an alpaca.

Claud whose job was to perform a punching joodie show with his myriad of puppies. The puppies were war criminals hiding in the one place they knew they wouldn’t be found.

Boleyn used to be somebody. She swore up and down jumped all around and turned herself about. Her crime was not producing a male heir. She had this fixed idea that she used to be a Queen of some far off place. Irwin said that Boleyn was all in my head. That I was crazier than I had never actually thought. I had to agree with him after all he was invisible.


in the violent wild reality in which is my present. I find myself often crushed by invisible forces. The forest some call suburbia, the city, downtown, fifth avenue, the hood is a dangerous place to be human. We drink vodka on the city bus, we sell drugs to minors, we rape the watchful, we are betrayed, we are victims, we are a mess. How I long for the days when I was excited for the future. Now it’s wondering when the next shooting will take place. It’s sickening my reality. I doubt it will change soon, the best I can do is try and change myself. That’s all I can do.

child of my heart

Emily woke up hungover as fuck in the arms of some random asshole. She groaned laughed a little shook it all off as she slid under his track marked arms to get dressed. It had to be Saturday morning. It was snowing it looked like shit outside. She threw on her clothes rifled through his wallet saw his name was Derek took his cash which she estimated to be around 600 bucks in twenties. His apartment was a typical bachelor pad. It had a blue tint a decent view of the courthouse. Crappy art and a book about old movie stars Chinese takeout and an old brown chair covered in miscellaneous bullshit. She figured Derek was going to be out for a while, she barely remembered the night before. All she could remember was grinding on this chicks knee tossing back shots of double vanilla vodka coke.

She looked around checked a bunch of shit out. Opened the fridge nothing as she expected. Emily cursed herself silently, she lasted six weeks without a drink. She had been so good, it was hard after the baby died. Her baby Rainie died of SIDS barely three months ago. It was fucking terrible finding her in the crib. She blamed herself though it wasn’t her fault but she hated herself. She would never stop hating herself. After the funeral Emily went to the bar and drowned herself her pain in whatever she could afford. Nothing mattered anymore.

Emily bid Derek or whatever the fuck his name was farewell. She wrapped her vintage coat around her thin waist and walked out the door cash and all.

The Lopes

Jackylope and his sister Candylope were odd children indeed. They lived with their Aunt Martinez in a five story mansion on the hills overlooking the ocean. Jackylope was fluent in Argentinean and enjoyed canning exotic pickles. Candylope loved Busta Rhymes and dreamed of owning her very own record store. Their parents were in prison for grand theft auto. They had about thirteen years left of their sentence. Jackylope loved his parents, they were always good to him and his sister. Camping trips, fishing trips, mushroom trips. The stuff memories are made of, when mom and dad got popped, Jackylope and Candylope got sent to the mansion. They had to leave the oasis in the mountains in Paris. They weren’t really mountains, just a house made of twigs but it did it’s job. It kept em safe and since they were in the country illegally they were extradited back to the states.
At first the siblings resigned to their new life with Aunt Martinez, she had a collection of miniature bibles that she kept in a cookie jar. She had the biggest fattest cat named Billy Cooney whose favorite dish was fried pineapple. They did their chores and brushed their teeth. They prayed at night to whoever the hell was up there to bring their mommy and daddy back home soon. It wasn’t long before Jackylope had enough of Aunt Martinez, that bitch was crazy, stuffing her mouth full of bird feathers. Who does that? Either way he figured Candylope was bored as fuck too and probably wanted to leave as well. So they raided the medical cabinet in the bathroom and drugged Aunt Martinez, stole her stash of pearls a large wad of bills and committed the same crime that landed both of their parents in prison. Candylope drove of course, she learned how to drive from all them rap videos. They made it to a casino, bought a couple cheeseburgers from the garbage man and plotted their next move. Jackylope voted to sell the Buick for cash so they could buy a couple guns and break mommy and daddy out of prison. All Candylope had to do was act cute and it would probably work. So they sold the car to a drunk attorney and bought a couple tickets to Seattle. It was a long ways away from the mansion but they saw a bunch of cool shit, have you ever seen an elephant farm in the middle of nowhere? Then there was that hippie guy who was on the run from the man, he didn’t want to fight that war. The bus broke down in Fresno, they stayed on the bus and read each other’s fortunes. Judging by the amateur readings, Jackylope was destined to have seventeen children by twelve different women. His luck was lucky, always had been. Candylope was destined to become a fashion designer for celebrity dogs. Her death was timed at eighty six. When they finally made it to Seattle, they were unpleasantly surprised by the culture that perverted the state lines. An obese woman with a black eye asked for a cigarette, Candylope gave her a squished pall mall that the obese lady stuck behind her ear. It was raining, people driving drunk. Jackylope needed a gun, but first they needed ice cream. So they pooled their money together and came up with thirty six thousand four hundred and forty two dollars, a few quarters to call a cab which Jackylope called while Candylope flirted with idea of joining the circus. They took a cab to the fanciest hotel in town, the building was large, the windows stained glass. Jackylope tipped the cab driver fifteen bucks hauled their luggage through the spinning doors and found themselves in a very odd situation.

It was a biker convention. Supposedly a cop from Tacoma shot an unarmed drunk biker a couple years ago. The guy had just robbed a dollar store with a water gun that looked genuinely real. He escaped down the street on his motorized scooter, fleeing five miles fast. It had to have been beautiful, racing down the street pockets full of green onions and Bubba Yubba.

The cop that shot Earl Stringers said that Earl threw a sack of potatoes at his head. Missed him by that much, an inch or so but the cop frightened for his life reached for his pepper spray and accidentally grabbed his gun. He pointed and shot Earl Stringers dead.

Earl Stringers might have been a violent drunk who happened to do crazy things like robbing dollar stores but he was a good friend. Though in the end, a trait like that couldn’t save him from death.

Candylope twirled her hair as she endlessly eyed a young chap dressed to the nines in soft leather. He was fine as fuck in all that soft leather. He had to have an exotic name like Zeke or Jerome. She sauntered over to him, twirling her hair around her finger. He was even sexier up close, he had a tattoo of the grim reaper on his neck. His hair blond streaked with what looked like silver in the sun. His nose pierced with a simple stud, his face gaunt like he wished he was somewhere else. It was kinda romantic in front of the fireplace, pillars of plastic salt, swinging wicker baskets full of plastic flowers. Him somewhere else, Her possessed by the power a beautiful stranger possesses.

Meanwhile, Jackylope was upstairs in their 275.00 a night fancy dancy room that came with a rubber chicken, unpacking their few belongings. He desperately needed a gun, You just can’t break into a prison without one. He took a shower, shaved his head, threw on his dirty clothes and went to find Candylope who had a knack for trouble with men. He got downstairs and couldn’t find her, she wasn’t in the bathroom busting out rhymes, she wasn’t in the kitchen blowing the cook. There could only be one other place. So he walked up to the receptionist who was doing lines on the keyboard and asked, “Excuse me miss but I was wondering if I could possibly interrupt your binge to ask a question.”

The receptionist looked annoyed as she looked up at Jackylope.