a foot wants the ground take each step with gratitude to walk is to live

she always turns a light on when she thinks of me checks under the bed to see if i left behind a kiss

Once I was a psychopath who took quite a shine to his ax. Many times I’d leave a blood bath… but meticulously clean, and particularly keen,

sparks fly when you put a couple forks in the microwave too

as her eyes broke open most of it washed away in a dry wave of consciousness there were a few drops left near the corners of her botto…

stuck out on a ledge with no stairs no ladder and no one to catch me

sipping cocktails in a dark corner… lit with cigarettes and neon we edged ourselves closer to the end of our stools to the end of our drinks

there will plenty of time to be si… when the abyss avalanches down upo… burying you deep into eternal abse… so raise your voice while you stil… because even if you can’t yell tom…

i knew i should not have unwrapped… but my will is weak at the beckon… so i took off your dress and let y… a bursting fruit flavor supplement… made everything else go away

elusive needle hides from him in a haystack like looking for home

i walk like an appetizer onto the moonlight tongue the wine is in my blood

time is one my side but what time is it? is it Killing Time?

Charles with his typewriter and bottles a bluebird held hostage in his hea… all the women he wanted all the jobs he didn’t

that is another man’s suicide if i kill myself there will be hookers

for wars not fought and battles not waged axes that fell from the hands of warriors