(2014)
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
if you enjoy this pain, all expressions of it, being here compiled, then, yes enjoy them, but
root it out the tiny bit left that says someone’s in charge not you. don’t let it live
every story, especially those promising finally to grant the square hat with tassels, is a load of shit. the god which
shall we turn down the covers, crawl inside? find there a place that’s been waiting for us, a vortex of sorts
oh, and how it gets you these bastard assumptions, one or two commonalities
leaning into, not against it. no, decidedly for, yes, always that, no matter
drry awfl drd sys thngs tk t lng & y bttr hrry lst y
liking to say things, all kinds of things, mostly about the way things seem
nobody goes mad on purpose, also never is it not shared,
love me past the edges, stances and masks, deeper than i know things.
being drawn back unlike a bowstring but down and in as water finds the lowest
I just felt what I think I’ll feel always, once we’ve finally met, and share this cool space, like an open secr… It felt like all my favorite songs…
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
first fruits hardly a handful, the garden