it misses the way we use to sit and breathe together inhaling and exhaling

that is another man’s suicide if i kill myself there will be hookers

my body is not a temple it is more like a corner bar in Wisconsin kneeling

Fruit Vendors a man with a cart of oranges on th… sells them with acclaim for their… sweet citrus that excites the tong… for a moment of pleasure

you took leave of Egypt for southwest Tennessee the African sun left for the warmth of Sun Record… i commend the move you made

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…

his grin covered in melted chocola… his hands covered in blood and no one to stop him thieves are not running scared they are running the show

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

time is one my side but what time is it? is it Killing Time?

to reach for the pen only when you need it is a mistake you must reach for it everyday eventually it grows familiar with…

it opens with a violin slowly bowing its premeditated plo… stalker lurking in darkness waiting for a victim to stroll by the verse comes out quick

i would never get my bar back so i went back waiting outside the entrance for m… to stop myself

the broom disdains fate sweeping destinies away our futures of dust

the blade has always been dull how it was made never

race against midnight an eleventh hour dash for the quick finish