I keep coming back just when ya think “there is no

we are all worth more than the bread crumbs they throw u… minimum wages

tired of her obsessions insatiable outbursts of self dragging her around angst smothered mornings culminating into nightly carnivals…

the songs that have been played as it’s neck was tickled and it’s belly was rubbed those at the pawn shop have nightm… of too much Beatles

i knew i should not have unwrapped… but my will is weak at the beckon… so i took off your dress and let y… a bursting fruit flavor supplement… made everything else go away

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

regret of the clock once wanted to be a watch even time gets lost

i entered into my junior high poet… with such a sense of excitement to share the craft that i had disc… just a couple years earlier a craft that my gramma had

a $5 footlong at Subway before a meeting on Thursday Burnin’ For You came on the speak… i wanted to call you

last seen at the brink of the abys… screaming at god laughing at the devil and smoking loose tobacco dark eyes and burnt skin

to reach for the pen only when you need it is a mistake you must reach for it everyday eventually it grows familiar with…

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

a best friend to kings faith substitutes for justice god will keep us poor

word traveled fast about the man with the crying ears sad with silence an absence of music left an absence in him