time is one my side but what time is it? is it Killing Time?
slippery bars make it hard to hold… captive against your will always lathered in the sweat of es… you elude any sentence
on a night back in 1998 at the 24 hour Happy Chef diner in Fort Dodge, Iowa when both of us were drunk and stoned
for all the good of the day she sought the places where youths did play a few kind words to say a light to make her darkness grey
watching horror films on vhs with gramma saturday nights
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…
there once was a drop of water misplaced in the ocean that was meant for something more never belonging with other drops lost at sea
his grin covered in melted chocola… his hands covered in blood and no one to stop him thieves are not running scared they are running the show
we conspire with the heretic to em… we summon hellish legions to arm u… with the fire of anger and the pestilence of despair with swords cast in spite
sometimes the butterfly is afraid to leave the cocoon that its wings are too bright that it might be shunned by caterpillars
human beings are animals and we should absolutely celebrate that when we are hungry
it’s just the memory of the sky blue and maybe it only seemed so blue because it was the first time i no…
disregarded flesh from abattoir to your plate feeding dominion
after nineteen years she thinks of him as a fart something to air out
a best friend to kings faith substitutes for justice god will keep us poor