panic is my dance partner and
when they have shaved the flesh until it drapes from the bones a mind begins to entertain the del… and an end will be had
you drag a soul around in a body and some nights it’s a bag of bricks wondering if there’s anything left to dream for
coiled in a moment of wonder to ponder the venom of his existen… remembering every instance that he prepared himself to strike with no recollection of hatching
on a night back in 1998 at the 24 hour Happy Chef diner in Fort Dodge, Iowa when both of us were drunk and stoned
the first line wrapped itself arou… a quickly tightened noose to take his breath away a second stanza slashed down his w… like a cold razor blade of verse
Charles with his typewriter and bottles a bluebird held hostage in his hea… all the women he wanted all the jobs he didn’t
i began to tell a grim story of a puppy left alone beneath an overcast sky at first i saw a lost dog sad and without
i thought that god was playing hide and go seek with me but it was just
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
i can smell a clue about as well as a rock and if you’re waiting for me under a rock
youth in his favor with young wome… a whole world ahead of him but the silly son of a bitch doesn… instead of seizing the day he spends his time obsessing over…
his wings are lazy buzzing around the same pond a fly scared to change
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
she heard him crying before the knock at the door two cops with bad news
