after a day surrounded by philisti… a not yet broken poet takes refuge in the familiar peace of desolatio… echoing quietly through two small… years ago this song came to him
man that lives to yearn sips at the tit of poison no will, but to die
though it takes a daily muster of all you got empties you out and leaves you wanting
black shirts worn at day they spoke mostly of music bonded by the odd
i would be excited to hold it tickle its little belly and watch it laugh if it cried i would search enthusiastically
desert town of fools born of sand and rainmakers devoted to thirst
coiled in a moment of wonder to ponder the venom of his existen… remembering every instance that he prepared himself to strike with no recollection of hatching
dear deity as the world continues to fall apa… in my heart it is clear to me that you do not hear me that you do not fear for me
i walk as a storm two bolts of lightning in socks shoes laced with thunder
with the lamplight at my back it feels like someone else is ther… my ears are full of wax and ghosts everything i hear is haunted headphones plugged into a headston…
he lights one last flame home is where the burning is bed of devil’s rest
Charles with his typewriter and bottles a bluebird held hostage in his hea… all the women he wanted all the jobs he didn’t
every drum in the world pales to the bang the crash the beat of her
in my timber heart her kisses became axes clearing a forest
i have been trying to eat the moon the sun is too spicy and i do prefer a late dinner but the people i eat with are insa… and they vomit the stars
