altar of vodka haloed cocktail, angel blood she prays 80 proof
isolated Sunday bicycle rides tend to compel long winded speeche… character dialogues from stories i… and plenty of l’esprit d’escalier i speak with the dead
A bleak winter day has come to me with one rose alive in it’s hand. I am asked when spring will set it… when the leaves will return to the… and more roses will bloom in the l…
dying of cancer saying her prayers they came to bathe her she asked if would hold her Rosary… “of course”
in my timber heart her kisses became axes clearing a forest
in the final moments of dusk you r… a last grab at redemption to no possible avail toward a jury of stars and the judgement of the moon
dressed only in screams showered with water and death life escapes by drain
i began to tell a grim story of a puppy left alone beneath an overcast sky at first i saw a lost dog sad and without
for wars not fought and battles not waged axes that fell from the hands of warriors
the only boss i care to listen to on Labor Day
race against midnight an eleventh hour dash for the quick finish
misgivings of tide familiar qualm of the sea home where we are lost
there will plenty of time to be si… when the abyss avalanches down upo… burying you deep into eternal abse… so raise your voice while you stil… because even if you can’t yell tom…
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…
the next one in the holder on the… can barely contain itself one corner is already protruding hoping like hell that when she finishes her burrito
