James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
James Ferraro
God's Island.
God of New York.
sex tape Pixellation, vaporous impressions
reflecting up the tinted windows.
Gargoyle POV. In the house of Gold.
the glass room that protects the ATM.
and you have to swipe your card to get in.
a woman's face is strobing, LED Marquee.
the velocity of plastic. lighting glowing. blue light
in the big print the God drinks bottled water.
He wanted to be a male Model.
emaciated babality. emaciated Coke GOd.
16 unread messages, he's in the belly in a cab.
he gave birth to every bodies style. he gave birth to a shadow drinker.
silhouettes, is all you can hope for from anybody.
staring at me from the window vice versa.
All the C.R.E.A.M. in the world in your face.
skinny demons dreaming at a red light.
down the drain , powerful names run the asphalt slick.
City of dark maneuvers. She moves like Heaven.
Coked up models, pets of the rich
in the sheen of what Money does.
the face ate itself away. Puerto Rican olive skin.
Sinister Flowers ashamed of living.
Signiflers of pain led on by the edifice of plastic
moves you into masochistic flames from Heavens version of the night.
Splendors in a rush of blood.
Not looking beyond my environment.
staring at my phone.
self skepticism is pious and without sleep,
relaying on paranoia and unrealistic dreams
Behind a door, camera's taping a film and
stealing our souls. sex with a Manhattan robot.
i love looking into her eyes. diminished egos.
all she does is read the NYROB shes brain dead
The color of Benjamin Franklin, turns the world.
Raw and Infrared , Empire air is pale and cold.
Seeing a dark view over the red city-scape.
Vampires in the streets. Central Park shit.
Chrome letters on the doors,
that tell me the end of time is here.
Rome's sister falling asleep.
Rats in the street 3:00 am, empty rooms,
black hallways, shining black marble,
elegant designs, metal stairs.
Blonde haired girl racist and willing.
Exhaling time. Empty casings
Decayed distorted space in the intercom
Nihilistic power, triumphant in ruthless touch,
in a city of shadows, they move without answer
I'm addicted to you, never wanna lose you.
NYC, Hell 3:00 AM Poem was written by James Ferraro.