sound becomes idea phenomenon of music as to hear a soul
that moment right after you’ve finished readin… when the mind gets to digest and what Jeffers referred to as “The honey of peace”
the only boss i care to listen to on Labor Day
youth in his favor with young wome… a whole world ahead of him but the silly son of a bitch doesn… instead of seizing the day he spends his time obsessing over…
the blade has always been dull how it was made never
my body is not a temple it is more like a corner bar in Wisconsin kneeling
stuck out on a ledge with no stairs no ladder and no one to catch me
black shirts worn at day they spoke mostly of music bonded by the odd
his wings are lazy buzzing around the same pond a fly scared to change
incredible love making will turn wolves into pups bears, cubs again and icy hearts melt to a puddle
my knee is there if i need to bend my leg my knee is not there for me to beg if you place an empty plate in fro…
coiled in a moment of wonder to ponder the venom of his existen… remembering every instance that he prepared himself to strike with no recollection of hatching
it’s been so long without a touch lips pressed deeply against mine fingers brushing through my beard… i have reclaimed my virginity bumbling and nervous in the presen…
in one kiss four lips translate all the languages of the world into a story none of us understand
i am my own ghost i am haunted