(2012)
when (finally) we meet I’m thinking spring wildflowers will bloom on high
webwomb’s not the maker of me. came into it as falling is done. down, only always
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.
if you enjoy this pain, all expressions of it, being here compiled, then, yes enjoy them, but
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
I will meet you in the open air, & pet your pony’s nose. You will be
i could not conceive of such beauty, it had to hit me like it has. nothing
here in the middle of the bottom of the lie how obvious
there are never really any angels in god’s company, it really just pretends them
something you need makes you its bitch, yes even as it isn’t coming, no when love stands you up & all the more sweet
people, mostly all barely beyond apes, cannot be trusted. they are incapable of caring
cool this angst some with beer, amazing how it works, three in and suddenly ashamed that i could hate
you are guilty of failing to love and understand me, like a dog is guilty of failing to speak or use
like bell bottoms or disco but we need it to think i’m dead
STEP BACK! There’s an infection you’ll get if you come any closer. It will open your eyes through the crust