i used to go to Gramma’s every Sunday evening we would order pizza watch whatever shows we could agree on

was afraid of heights until i looked at my back and saw i have wings

Deep in The Milky Way they will meet again. Reflections, and shadows. Never-ending satellites crashing into never-ending stars.

the Allen Bradley Tower clock looks at me like an all knowing ey… it tells me “you are home you were not born here

dawn is a coffin stars take their graves in morning come night, resurrect

black shirts worn at day they spoke mostly of music bonded by the odd

the songs that have been played as it’s neck was tickled and it’s belly was rubbed those at the pawn shop have nightm… of too much Beatles

love digs graves all around the world but i used to

visceral were the nights we stood… each of us armed with an instrumen… and hearts that beat like tempos we put on a show but we weren’t put-ons

if you’ve show up to the poetry re… with no poems to read you better worry because you can’t go on stage with… so start looking for an exit

squandered precious gifts laid down for worthless fortunes when men turn soldier

sobering up is a lot like waking up you don’t really remember your dre… but you know they were more exciti… than this

he lights one last flame home is where the burning is bed of devil’s rest

dehydrated my heart became small hardened by the air of hopelessnes… with a little time and some water it has grown and changed

so I am supposed to divulge enough… for someone to make an informed de… and certainly it is understood tha… for a while it’s the decorum of crazy