it’s just the memory of the sky blue and maybe it only seemed so blue because it was the first time i no…

I cannot be cast under any moon, upon any soul. If not for her,

sound becomes idea phenomenon of music as to hear a soul

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

love digs graves all around the world but i used to

she loved him before when life was a game he played and she loves him still

(a) his job (b) his home (c) his girl (d) his mind (e) his life

i kneel on two bad knees i clasp together two

two mountains hanker to reach across the valley always between them

there once was a drop of water misplaced in the ocean that was meant for something more never belonging with other drops lost at sea

the Allen Bradley Tower clock looks at me like an all knowing ey… it tells me “you are home you were not born here

illuminated with the yellowish-ora… parked alone now waiting to be driven away by the last man at the office dedicated to his job

into another corner bar they go climbing stairs covered in clumps… praying they don’t slip carrying s… hundreds of pounds of amplificatio… they set up in the corner