it was never my intention to clip… i was only trying to take a feathe… so that i would have something to… after you flew away
it was the hottest new spot on the east side of course and of course
Sue lurks near my street I have thoughts of kissing her but fear to commit
that is another man’s suicide if i kill myself there will be hookers
we can wear the morning air like a jacket and move deep into those bright
though it takes a daily muster of all you got empties you out and leaves you wanting
long begrimed with dust a floor looking for a broom love me for my scuffs
brief landings never fool me my thoughts are made of tornadoes and I know the mind will never sit… “where the heart is” is the name of a bullshit map
after nineteen years she thinks of him as a fart something to air out
the broom disdains fate sweeping destinies away our futures of dust
when the neighbors would bang on t… screaming through them telling him to stop for the love of god it is three in the morning
the crowd is divisive full of bickering ideologies and overstimulated thoughts of what makes us different we lose sight of the fact
he lights one last flame home is where the burning is bed of devil’s rest
the darker the room the more I needed her she was scented with tobacco and cedar
as summer wanes a chill comes about the air darkness replaces sunlight and the leaf loses it’s grasp upon… it cannot be blamed for its fall
