this shirt screams “i’m not still fucked up from last…
i entered into my junior high poet… with such a sense of excitement to share the craft that i had disc… just a couple years earlier a craft that my gramma had
long begrimed with dust a floor looking for a broom love me for my scuffs
an unfinished puzzle can easily bl… but somewhere out there is a piece convinced that it is the rest of the puzzle that…
the crowd is divisive full of bickering ideologies and overstimulated thoughts of what makes us different we lose sight of the fact
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
let me brave myself for another da… for i am convinced that out there… worthy of all the pangs in the pil… let me have the strength to bear t… this face
trees tremble in fright sharing tales that shake their lea… lumberjack stories
i dream of a world ruled by art where the letters that come in the mail are written in fingerpaints and tornado sirens sound off to th…
thoughts on the police not that they are the bad guys they just work for them
in third grade i confessed to my c… i didn’t know who Joe Montana was because i didn’t watch football the boys were quick to emasculate… and i was ready to punch their lig…
dressed only in screams showered with water and death life escapes by drain
we can wear the morning air like a jacket and move deep into those bright
i used to go to Gramma’s every Sunday evening we would order pizza watch whatever shows we could agree on
my knee is there if i need to bend my leg my knee is not there for me to beg if you place an empty plate in fro…
