into another corner bar they go climbing stairs covered in clumps… praying they don’t slip carrying s… hundreds of pounds of amplificatio… they set up in the corner

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

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

it misses the way we use to sit and breathe together inhaling and exhaling

splendid bit of glee response of a mind tickled nothing like a laugh

drink from the dream cup welcome those ghosts of morning don’t fade out, sleep in

droopy dark circles around the eye… brown eyes sad eyes sometimes he pees on the floor they rub his nose in it

I keep coming back just when ya think “there is no

i followed the pigeons to Gordon park just to hear them coo their electric feathers alive in the sun

i watch her lips purse around the top end of a cock… sucking up the last drops of a Can… setting the glass arm’s length awa… she lets the bartender see we need…

he burns through the keys in hopes to unlock himself with freedom of song

going out for Golden Gloves when i was a teenager i trained as hard as anyone paid close attention to the scienc… my coach

tired of her obsessions insatiable outbursts of self dragging her around angst smothered mornings culminating into nightly carnivals…