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My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 12 year old aboriginal inuit prostitute from Ottawa with a vindictive vocabulary and two feet. Summers in Rangoon luge lessons in the afternoon, whence bored we made meat helmets. If i was insolent i was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty typical really at the age of ten i received my first scribe. Velasquez Rembrandt Schiele and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and end.....
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Anticipatory asphyxiation
The melodious child dead in me long before the ax chops off my head
