tim barrus: genocide
hiv nights/hiv nights/ hiv nights

i keep going back there to those visions it was a visionary book even if all that meant was that genocide saw things/ not good things; maybe things you cannot believe in that man could be so injurious, murderous, that it was difficult to perceive because we only perceive at all through tiny little definitional boxes that supposedly reflect back sometimes in language and sometimes in symbols, that which is real versus that which is contrived when, in fact, there remains little evidence that either one of those preferences has it right/ i wanted to write a book where the reader had none of the assumptions that in society holds him up, holds him together, and holds him down when he will be punished by decree/ cold nights pass over roads to seas turned red/ the only thing left that goes on is the going on/ to you, the reader, it was fiction/ an escape, but to me, the writer/ it was stripped to the waist, a reservoir made visible, some feel death before they die, gnawed on raw by dragons, asleep against the rivers shift of sunlight dusking wind quiet as the  watchdog howling at his own emptiness, from which those of us born from dogs, acknowledge droughts, species extinction, famine, giving birth, digging, snarling, fucking, counting hours upon the suns, and knowing in our seeing through the fabric of the world that nothing much has really changed where we ran barefoot through field after field of gravity, and source, and destinations far away, a night sky blackens like the smoke from the ovens’ haze, i write that book again and again in dreams, hiv nights in screams, genocide would sing even as it struggled not to drown, having come ashore among the roots/ 

time now to move forward/ the past is done/ for the boys still alive today/ still kicking, still challenging, still loving/ still struggling/ still adhering to their pills, still asking question/ still shaking up the house/ still traveling/ still sick, still well/ still making art on a skateboard/

still breathing/ breathing/ 

Boys Like Us
"We wanted to call this HOMELESS COCKSUCKER JUNKIES WITH AIDS AND FUCK YOU! If you are laffing, right now yer probably one of us. If you are not laffing, yer not a boy at risk. You know who U R. BOYS AT RISK IS 4 BOYS AT RISK BY BOYS AT RISK. There aint nothing like it no how no wheres.

We will see if they lets us keep it. The rulz is: No boy dick. OK. And no boy hole. OK. And no soliciting. OK. And no slamming. OK."

If U R a boy whore you is one of us. If U  R homeless and in a library reading this on the bitternet you iz one of us. If U ripped off an Ipad somewhere U R one of us. If U just got fucked and thrown into a ditch U R one of us. If U R wiping the cum out of yer little holey hole hole U R one of us. If U R in a public toilet at Sears sucking dick for a quarter U R one of us. If you just took yer Atripla U R one of us. If U R sitting on a Troom shitter in a rest area shooting dope U R one of us. If U R in a Death Camp with the bitch nurses and sweats and chills U R one of us. If U just told Mr. principle to suck yer dick and U walked strate outta that school and U wont B going back U R one of us. If U R in the queen lockup at the jailhouse U R one of us. If U just scored some Mex brown and gots a new spoon U R one of us. If U let some trick fuck U without a condom U R one of us. If U R in the youth authority U R one of us. If U just made an arty art film starring yer anus U R one of us. If Daddy just kicked yer sweetness into the street U R one of us. If some trick's cum just made U upchuck on his new shoes U R one of us. If U just beat the fucking shit out of some bully on the playground and his head is squirting red juice on the ground and U hear sirens coming U R one of us. Run U dum fuck run. Don't fuck with us. Sugar, it is a bad idea. We are not the boys who get bullied. No. No. No. We are the boys who cut fingers off the bullies with a knife and U R one of us. If U just phoned some trick's wife to tell that bitch her husband is a cheap slut and U been doing him 4 years U R one of us. If U R sleeping at the Port Authority U R one of us. If U R in the drunk tank with them other tribal drunks and they are throwing up even while they B fucking yer asshole U R one of us. If U just beat yer Mama's boyfriend up and gutted him with a knife U R one of us. If U just escaped from the Crazy Unit U R one of us. If U only do tricks on Fridays U R still one of us. If U just ripped off that leather jacket U come sit beside me.

If the ER bitch just pulled out the rape kit U R one of us.

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