ten years later

A hellish report of post modern schizophrenia....smoke swirls in a grey thread towards the angry ceiling, empty high ball glass on a littered end table. Young Latin man turns slowly in the night, the neon strobe catches his innocence. He attains a look of apathy and dismay, fear of the barking dog down a dusty alley at night. Gunshots in the distance. Hobos scream obscenities upward to uncaring stars...a frustrated old queen fondles his sagging, decayed loins lost in fits of nostalgia. Where has my youth gone? Down long roads and dark mental passage ways that reek of clogged toilets, mildew, unwashed penis...where are you now, Dear Writer? What do you dream about when all the dreams shatter into horrible nightmares of reality? What has become of your borrowed flesh?

Ten years ago on this day, this blog titled borrowed flesh was willed into existence. What began as an experiment to put down in an electronic journal of what was happening during those strange days of living in Tijuana, Mexico continued as a document of wayward traveling, loveless romance, and spiraling madness. I sincerely wish to thank from the bottom of my heart to all you readers who experienced these happy times and hardships with me during the past decade. Again...thank you!