a man can be no more ready for Feb… than he is for his own death bringing in the second wave of win… icy flakes whipping in the wind relentlessly low temperature

as summer wanes a chill comes about the air darkness replaces sunlight and the leaf loses it’s grasp upon… it cannot be blamed for its fall

with the lamplight at my back it feels like someone else is ther… my ears are full of wax and ghosts everything i hear is haunted headphones plugged into a headston…

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

the fast foot of gloom quick through labyrinths of joy always catches up

if you alone hold me as i battle for last breat… if you alone bear the burden of the body left b… if there is no one else in the roo…

i walk as a storm two bolts of lightning in socks shoes laced with thunder

Once I was a psychopath who took quite a shine to his ax. Many times I’d leave a blood bath… but meticulously clean, and particularly keen,

early this morning fresh was the only way we could imagine ourselves soft to the teeth

i wanted to vote but looking at the ballot i wondered “for what?”

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

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

if ever he drowns a swimmer will miss water life regrets no death

sunlight makes love to the earth an orgasm of photosynthesis from the heat of their passion tulips are born