" i remember el salvador, /n it’s horse shit, like i tell you.
i stopped chasing the messiahs /n madonnas - wised up,
set myself straight.
i’ve laid em /n balled em in every half-way house south of biloxi,
every 10 cent bed west of tulsa, fucked /n slobbered myself stupid on swingsets, greyhounds
/n gas station floors the world over.
i’ve split em in half
from head to ass
in elevator shafts, plus-size fitting rooms,
in the lobbies of sheraton inns
/n kfc parking lots - fucked em everywhere
every way that i could.
someone else can fuck em now.
i’m done w/ el salvador.
i know her militias
her perfume, munitions,
her missing hubcaps /n posters of paris.
i know her goyas, her barricades,
her paintboxes
/n bookshelves
of baudelaire,
her banners, her bullshit /n paris can keep her. "

― Brandon Thomas DiSabatino , 6 Weeks of White Castle /n rust