You let the yellow glow from eye sockets. The building up the street is burning faster and faster.
The sin is existing.
a folksome, gruesome opera of gauze and malcontent.
my father holds his favorite drink
I imagined a cascade of slow death for all / that mattered…
I suffer visions and many indignities while looking for the Lobster
I am not a guide for every traveler of loss.
I would always rather be happy than dignified. Rather held than held in awe.
The collective failure of ethical standards
Empty vessels make the most sound, I think, as you rip the fairy lights off the handrail.
People have always coped with flooding, and they learned to cope with death.
I’msorry I‘ll see what happens iLife
I count my homes— those of my scattered youth the sanctuary of our young family the intermittent rest stops of apartments and vacations.
Should have found a job by now; should have slept in the night; should have boiled old coffee before noon.
Live the rest of your life from one worst case to another.
you quit wearing pants loaf around your yard in hole-nipped panties
Try not to see your own predicament in every fucking thing.
four-thirty a.m.
Mostly he ate what was put on his plate snuck coffee grounds or dirt for a snack Once a zipper Unzipped
Yes I am guilty, I’m guilty. A sin was desirable then. Bring the dancer back to the stalks.