(2014)
webwomb’s not the maker of me. came into it as falling is done. down, only always
got the sex drive of 15 young bulls, but the women are all scared.
god is unwelcome in suburbia, the cells are too comfortable there, & love rests best under stars.
I just felt what I think I’ll feel always, once we’ve finally met, and share this cool space, like an open secr… It felt like all my favorite songs…
liking to say things, all kinds of things, mostly about the way things seem
being drawn back unlike a bowstring but down and in as water finds the lowest
we go walking around walking all over this town nothing ever getting us down cause we’re just a couple of clown…
finally, without knowing it was coming, he got to die. it was great. like a birthday party clown, he was equally the center
better fucking eat it all up. time is getting drunk & may puke, be rude, before finally
now, I’m no Bukowski but my friends who don’t like poet… except his stuff, tell me they like mine, and I can drink like a drinking machine
leaning into, not against it. no, decidedly for, yes, always that, no matter
love does not beat on doors, beg at tables. it is always
oh, and how it gets you these bastard assumptions, one or two commonalities
nobody goes mad on purpose, also never is it not shared,
root it out the tiny bit left that says someone’s in charge not you. don’t let it live