anger, like you can sink teeth into, candy apple
Try not to see your own predicament in every fucking thing.
the man is stayed bent over the canvas of my sofa. the man is me the man is him self and I bring down the whip…
I am not a guide for every traveler of loss.
Do not say anything anybody else has said ever. Things are not “bleached by sun.”
Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time
Even as the sun warms the concrete the long nights’ sensual cold lingers in my clothes.
Part of being a good sad person is always painting the shadows in the right direction and knowing what sorrow to art with.
I myself should never have been born
In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers, my back a misguided quote
Gravel-scatted hell & we were blessed to be able to hold on for even a heartbeat
I like to think I’m also sprung, released from the furnace knocks, done with the heavy meat stews and salty soups.
People have always coped with flooding, and they learned to cope with death.
We stop doing dishes while a mile unwinds from the tree outside.
how does an afternoon turn on its axis?
Yes I am guilty, I’m guilty. A sin was desirable then. Bring the dancer back to the stalks.
Listen to me: I know the winter gloom in mid-summer…
my friends’ fathers are dropping I mean dying like flies
You let the yellow glow from eye sockets. The building up the street is burning faster and faster.
I suffer visions and many indignities while looking for the Lobster