THE ARTIST constantly trying to get somewhere he

tired of her obsessions insatiable outbursts of self dragging her around angst smothered mornings culminating into nightly carnivals…

sparks fly when you put a couple forks in the microwave too

for wars not fought and battles not waged axes that fell from the hands of warriors

i am the one most concerned with popularity found my way into castles to meet with kings and queens crashed parties with celebrities

i wanted to vote but looking at the ballot i wondered “for what?”

it destroys the essence of the poe… stricken with the stink of human no art can cover the foul odor generic mac&cheese flatulated

it was a particularly long day walking around in the Austin heat with too much on my mind i’d avoided the drink though it seemed to call for me fr…

all of my weary and all of my woe is made into perfect sense a common thread in my favorite son… familiar tones of sadness the beauty of malaise

last seen at the brink of the abys… screaming at god laughing at the devil and smoking loose tobacco dark eyes and burnt skin

the songs that have been played as it’s neck was tickled and it’s belly was rubbed those at the pawn shop have nightm… of too much Beatles

word traveled fast about the man with the crying ears sad with silence an absence of music left an absence in him

when the rest of the world seemed… and the invisibility of god was to… i turned to a puppet a stuffed brown dog i had named Gr… i confided in him earnestly