first fruits hardly a handful, the garden

if i stub my fucking toe it’s their fault so say i, and who could argue? you almost

here’s a story. it may even be true. where i come from nothing ever sucks, so i

just start over not so much like anything was particularly

bring me things to break myself upon till

root it out the tiny bit left that says someone’s in charge not you. don’t let it live

no means no. no response means no. (everyone knows maybe means nothing

just listen the trees drink silly.. I work i work that day the not

i could not conceive of such beauty, it had to hit me like it has. nothing

of the things that make me become better only music is unlike surgery

like bell bottoms or disco but we need it to think i’m dead

shut my eyes and squeeze my demand, the point of a spear.  what will happen.

webwomb’s not the maker of me. came into it as falling is done. down, only always

being drawn back unlike a bowstring but down and in as water finds the lowest

if ever someone is my dearest ear who hears my truth as theirs