howdy. so i am planning on doing a set next week. hyde will be shooting it. can't wait. and my tits have gotten bigger, but like grandma's chicken soup, they are homemade, son.

my agent returns in about 3 weeks so i have a lot of work to do, think i'm gonna send her some of Boys Town as well as Bound To Die Young.
here's more of Boys Town. enjoy.

Pretty As Filth (Still November)

The rich have been terribly misinformed.
Food tastes so much better after being without it for a good bit, and going out of your way to come up with the cash to buy it.
Too weak to move, but I cannot stop and shut my eyes because I know I will not wake up again.
“Come on, doll, we have to go.”
I go with him. Later I’ll be able to wash my feet somewhere. My heels are bloody because I lost my last pair, when I got kicked out, and bought a pair two sizes too big for me, cos they were on discount at 99th Floor, and I’ve walked the city in them, hoping eventually my feet will just turn numb and the pain won’t matter anymore until I finally look down and my feet are just two thick piles of blood and god will have enough sense to press his hand down on my head and shrink me so I can disappear in my own blood. Not die, just disappear. Please.
And I try to imagine like Jack said, seeing everything I need just on the other side of the window – money, food, warmth, one decent night can feel like a rich man’s life, see, and that’s what we’re striving for here.
Every hour is a step up or a step down, depending on how you look at it.
So it’s there on the other side of the window. Jack says imagine shattering the glass and sticking your arm through, careful not to snag your flesh on the sharp teeth-like jagged edges.
That is, he says, what it’s like when he slips his cock through Avery’s mouth, trying hard to slide it through the corner that’s less infected.
Try not to get sick before the night falls, the night he can finally afford to enjoy.
And we are there, we’ve made it, it ain’t exactly Hotel Monaco but there are warm corners and Jack’s friend will doze off soon and we can hopefully raid the fridge.
It’s a tiny room in a basement apartment somewhere in Wicked Park.
The bed is naked, its sheets used to cover a couch in the corner because there are pigeons in the room that have escaped their cages, and they shit over a lot of stuff, and that couch means something.
“He plans on selling it next week,” Jack says. “But not this bed, no one would ever buy this filth.”
But by the time we’re done in there, it ain’t even pretty as filth anymore.