clothing lines completely disappeared

into the distant memory of young minds

early late 1990’s minds

in google search you nary appear

it’s like you didn’t even exist

it’s as if the spirit that created the fabrics

and textures

and applied colors

and countless hours of thinking of names

and styles

and upstarting the business with heart and soul and love

was nothing

was nowhere

was hallucinatory



a figment of my fucking imagination

and what does that mean for me?

an underground warrior who solemnly attended

the church of house looking for an instant fix?

trying desperately to understand an outdated god

while simultaneously believing that there was something bigger?

what does this mean that


in another escapist mode

can’t find you?

does this mean that I, myself, do not

did not exist

that my presence in these dark caves was but a dream

a lonely, subterranean delusion

a vile transformation

washed upon

a now commercial, capitalist shore…?


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