apologies were often on the wind before her lips but when a girl’s got those big be… well
when you’re going down the momentum is compelling to the point it almost overwhelms you at the bottom
on the surface you are correct he was an asshole a drunk maybe even
you drag a soul around in a body and some nights it’s a bag of bricks wondering if there’s anything left to dream for
i drifted onto your shore a withered vessel the skeleton of a ship torn sails draped over masts like dead bodies
monuments of song returned to life in my hands records from dead men
Life is a series of tragedies with… But what is good for those who suf… than what is good for those who do… —for Brian Salvador Curley
i almost did not make it to this p… i was stuck in the glory of old verses cadavers un-buried and admired like trophies
an illness so cold he sees flames as medicine and treats his disease
all of my weary and all of my woe is made into perfect sense a common thread in my favorite son… familiar tones of sadness the beauty of malaise
brief landings never fool me my thoughts are made of tornadoes and I know the mind will never sit… “where the heart is” is the name of a bullshit map
time reduced to ash all the clocks were made of fire burning each second
i expose myself a show boat and a show pony i suppose myself a poet
slippery bars make it hard to hold… captive against your will always lathered in the sweat of es… you elude any sentence
his wings are lazy buzzing around the same pond a fly scared to change
