i was born in a basket of apples out of place from the start always berated by questions like “where is your stem?” “why are you so round?”

stopped by a red light engine sputters memories he goes with what’s gone

for one minute my clock dreamed of infinity forever stood still in a timeless moment hidden from death and deadlines

he keeps it bottled for days like these vintage destinies rush toward the… breaths of dead fruits inhale deep… and he drowns himself in their req…

walking down Rundberg a gentleman of the homeless junkie… approaches me from ahead “hey mayne ima be hones wischu

he remembers the grapes as they would vine through his blo… like galaxies looking for a home welcomed with a kiss from his alwa… stars tickled his heart

you drag a soul around in a body and some nights it’s a bag of bricks wondering if there’s anything left to dream for

brief landings never fool me my thoughts are made of tornadoes and I know the mind will never sit… “where the heart is” is the name of a bullshit map

visceral were the nights we stood… each of us armed with an instrumen… and hearts that beat like tempos we put on a show but we weren’t put-ons

he does not to leave the vine out of any loathing for his kin he simply can not stay waiting around to turn to raisin knowing that out there somewhere

joyless carnival merry-go-rounds of a troubled mind the amusement of fright and despair

on a good day a poem is just a death threat to e… on a bad day it is a love letter