there was only fire, then, nothing.

i miss Dennis Hopper..

where are the outlaws? where are the rabble-rousers and the bringers of fire and poems wrapped in razor wire?

where are you?

raise your hand. stomp your feet and clap your hands. let’s ride – smelling oil mix with fuel – until sunrise.

sound. riot.

sound your instruments and go foul at the throat.

scream bliss.
growl hunger.
eat bacon.

\endrandom.