dreams need their distance she learned from burnt fingertips do not touch the stars
a best friend to kings faith substitutes for justice god will keep us poor
my body is not a temple it is more like a corner bar in Wisconsin kneeling
the broom disdains fate sweeping destinies away our futures of dust
it is not often that i think of peace or of the soldier i believe war is inevitable
i drifted onto your shore a withered vessel the skeleton of a ship torn sails draped over masts like dead bodies
droopy dark circles around the eye… brown eyes sad eyes sometimes he pees on the floor they rub his nose in it
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?”
this shirt screams “i’m not still fucked up from last…
plenty more on that beautiful head of hers she’ll never even know it’s missing
to reach for the pen only when you need it is a mistake you must reach for it everyday eventually it grows familiar with…
Sue lurks near my street I have thoughts of kissing her but fear to commit
loading the chamber to kill that which he fears most one round will suffice
some nights I talk to them because i have no pets and i am alone i make promises “tomorrow we will go for a walk”
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