THE ARTIST constantly trying to get somewhere he
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
race against midnight an eleventh hour dash for the quick finish
i wanted to vote but looking at the ballot i wondered “for what?”
sometimes a vampire wants to see t… but people of the village keep his… chained shut with garlic they wear crosses around their nec… so that if he ever does get out
i love music i know everyone does but i really do nothing can soothe me as much as
time reduced to ash all the clocks were made of fire burning each second
at odds with the sky I have rid myself of every feather and with my beak i have chewed off… of my wings if i am to see my dreams die
so close to travels rocks along the railroad tracks never board the train
tire takes the pirate seeking lost treasures of sleep sails into goodnight
squandered precious gifts laid down for worthless fortunes when men turn soldier
a man must find his way to live in the world a poet must find his way to let the world live
the lavish liberty of lust unbound in the salacity of self a lover may take too long or doesn’t take long enough a lover may manipulate you
a foot wants the ground take each step with gratitude to walk is to live
this shirt screams “i’m not still fucked up from last…