new stuff on the horizon. proof on concept.


Drink until I warble 
like one of your old cassettes
Drunk as Orson Welles
having one of his little artist fits
waiting on you like a rapture 
to rip me out of my clothes 
in my body like a blood clot 
in my head like a bloody nose

I know i’m just a bad idea to you
Something strange you just couldn’t hold onto  

Drank until I tangled up
like one of your old cassettes
Guts nothing but ribbons 
Shredded and swallowed in the deck 
i swear once we were heaven sent 
still think we were but on accident 
a thought and prayer that came and went 
names redacted in a document 

Just sitting there when the lights go dim 
waiting in my head like an aneurysm 


Guess I’m your silly little angel of doom
A show you only watch in a hotel room
somewhere i can be more
grass greener than a sinclair dinosaur

Alex Salcido

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