Butthole Surfers - Who Was in My Room Last Night (by jocabob1612)
Standing where we might be seen
In earth salt,
Slung across a plain and stretching
Ourselves to reach a new place. Made ripe,
Tasting the fruit blood, streaming
Our faces to fill our pleasure mouths.
Emotional, full of excitement
And trap doors let us slide into
More expansive breath
Below nude plains.
Our bones hungry for blushed flesh
Under our grey skin,
Fear is a sour stone.
Bobbie Wygant Interviews River Phoenix for “Running on Empty” (by Erik Clapp Cinema+Photo)