(2014)
webwomb’s not the maker of me. came into it as falling is done. down, only always
now, I’m no Bukowski but my friends who don’t like poet… except his stuff, tell me they like mine, and I can drink like a drinking machine
i keep smiling forgetting to remember to stop myself.
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.
dopplergangers in case you both explode, who knows it could happen, true love too qui… like a limerick, obvious stupid si… like things aren’t. also, angular
there are never really any angels in god’s company, it really just pretends them
man, it’s hard to come down from impossible hopes seemingly
god is unwelcome in suburbia, the cells are too comfortable there, & love rests best under stars.
I understand the tattoo now “VERITAS” on your wrist, only there because it is entirely absent everywhere else.
just start over not so much like anything was particularly
leaning into, not against it. no, decidedly for, yes, always that, no matter
root it out the tiny bit left that says someone’s in charge not you. don’t let it live
unspeakable dearth of nutrient the cause of the complaint, lack of the sweet titmilk of human connection,
you are guilty of failing to love and understand me, like a dog is guilty of failing to speak or use
we were all talking, things taking shape as they do, when someone said, be desireless, like that is at all a thing people