When she comes around; She will know, where I’ll be found. On empty streets, with dimming light.

When I was just a kid No more than thirteen Decidedly I grabbed A nightmares dream With contemporary belief

Liar. My half-track eyes, Spy; A Liar. A mind swept clear,

to think without eyes or ears the touch or smell

Soot It seems you may have some soot To gather, to get rid No other place but on your face It stays, persists

My House; My Castle Crumbling on cue As piece, by piece All comfort; Consumed My halls; My doors

Sown; Reaped We are magnificent Our time together is but an arc of… And my pen stumbles to keep up In every thought lies priceless re…

A one handed gift giver; full of e… Could take the tender of a trust t… and make millions. Bury this trust in a mound of pers… and call it a wash in a handshake…

In this time of need, feeling inco… and relying on unfolded dreams questioning every last belief buried in the deepest of seam is a book I have yet twice to read…

Dry is the thread, brittle and frayed. Now the stitching will not hold. Through dusty road and whistling trees, I traveled into the grit rich pitch. It would seem to be for nothing....

Anna Sleaze is diseased. Like Typhoid Mary, and fucked with ease. Always with a “Please!” And a “MORE, MORE!, MORE!!”

That was our Morning Long ago, in love Almost total Almost perfect So it’s there I stay

I turn out my Flesh, To turn on my Spirit; The needs that come and go. A Turnstile counting; She’ll know it when she feels it,

Look beyond these words And address the in-between Here lies a rest assured With conscience squeaky clean When you gave me your shelter