(2013)
does a king come ready– made, or doesn’t he emerge from a prince once a frog, and aren’t you
cool this angst some with beer, amazing how it works, three in and suddenly ashamed that i could hate
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.
yeah, the contract the social one, so long ago supposedly agreed to, we were born instead into. what
unspeakable dearth of nutrient the cause of the complaint, lack of the sweet titmilk of human connection,
i keep smiling forgetting to remember to stop myself.
nobody goes mad on purpose, also never is it not shared,
shut my eyes and squeeze my demand, the point of a spear. what will happen.
I love how you talk Down to everyone In your poems Which, unlike fiction Are not covered
the very idea that i could be
a breeze. already know what’s what. shut up. kiss her. shut up...
oh, and how it gets you these bastard assumptions, one or two commonalities
of the things that make me become better only music is unlike surgery
I will meet you in the open air, & pet your pony’s nose. You will be
if you enjoy this pain, all expressions of it, being here compiled, then, yes enjoy them, but
.jpg?locale=fr)
