I open the outside door to my studio
and the door to my pants next. I
pull out my pecker and piss
into the howling zero-degree blizzard.
Could you ever, possibly feel more alive?
I make a picture. . . and close the door.
I open the outside door to my studio
and the door to my pants next. I
pull out my pecker and piss
into the howling zero-degree blizzard.
Could you ever, possibly feel more alive?
I make a picture. . . and close the door.