the friction ridges on his fingers are different than most where there are usually arches there are the shapes of broken hea… and laughing faces
after nineteen years she thinks of him as a fart something to air out
it destroys the essence of the poe… stricken with the stink of human no art can cover the foul odor generic mac&cheese flatulated
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,
he lights one last flame home is where the burning is bed of devil’s rest
man that lives to yearn sips at the tit of poison no will, but to die
after it blows out your last match it goes to a bar and laughs over whiskey telling the story of the look on y…
everyone’s eyes are filled with what could have been some girls are alone others accompanied by lovers all waiting for their names to be…
trees tremble in fright sharing tales that shake their lea… lumberjack stories
now when I say “forever” I don’t mean too
slippery bars make it hard to hold… captive against your will always lathered in the sweat of es… you elude any sentence
he does not to leave the vine out of any loathing for his kin he simply can not stay waiting around to turn to raisin knowing that out there somewhere
i love music i know everyone does but i really do nothing can soothe me as much as
the way mom and aunt kim would get… when the video would come on mtv i thought “that’s the life for me” singing for the working class
when his jam comes on one second in an electric burst hits his gut he pulls his shoulders upright bites the left side of his bottom…
