we all trip over our own comfort and wherever we land is the lie we build a home on whatever love is we only do it when we have to
elusive needle hides from him in a haystack like looking for home
there once was a drop of water misplaced in the ocean that was meant for something more never belonging with other drops lost at sea
darkness does not pass suddenly nor does the light surrounding it though her love was a shadow i reticently remember hints of a star
tire takes the pirate seeking lost treasures of sleep sails into goodnight
i search each second find words under rocks and rugs looking for poems
streets become narrow and sidewalks vanish layers are important heavy socks and the right pair of boots
isolated Sunday bicycle rides tend to compel long winded speeche… character dialogues from stories i… and plenty of l’esprit d’escalier i speak with the dead
the friction ridges on his fingers are different than most where there are usually arches there are the shapes of broken hea… and laughing faces
all of my weary and all of my woe is made into perfect sense a common thread in my favorite son… familiar tones of sadness the beauty of malaise
man that lives to yearn sips at the tit of poison no will, but to die
tailored finely to be worn proudly on the dance floor on the moon over top-shelf martinis over the rainbow
this shirt screams “i’m not still fucked up from last…
our savings accounts cry out for m… but we only have so much to give coins jingling away in the pocket a few dirty fives in the wallet the shelves are in need of grocery
we fly down the highway looking for the next bar open on C… we each do a line and head on in flirt with lonely girls and take bumps in the bathroom
