denial of departureshe is a ringing bell in a cardboard castle dream of jewel encrusted crowns and people magazine she is beautiful and lovely she is my gypsy queen intelligent vivacious sizzling caringdenial of departure
she loves me a great mystery dont deserve her not me enchanted by her emerald gaze
the light beams struck me ultra violet rays emerald eyes and emerald tears why an epitaph we are healthy we have years
a will what are you talking about why is everyone blue you girly girly goo perform a mind coup an ocean deluge know not what to do 1 + 1 = 1 logic be damned stop talking to me w
Visions of a Small TownIn the dim small town streets, The wind howls home the deathly quiet.Visions of a Small Town
We sit here burning, Breaking a rule just to make sure we can defy it.
And the girls dance around in the rain, Knowing not if they should try it.
Lights flicker in a classroom so soft, In the lot the exhaust pipes cough, In the hallway the freshman is lost, And the radio station is turned off.
Just those girls, and their true loves, Lost in time.
And these visions of a small town, Have conquered my mind.
In empty lots jocks and pushers make, Shady deals near fi
The Split Tongue SnakeThe split tongue snake is broke, chokes and dies on his smoke joke hiss, creeping mist packed with lies, his black tar blood flows freely from his side, as night hugs the earth where all bones can hide.The Split Tongue Snake
The preacher collapses in the middle of the road, his typed, spaced arrows are quite a heavy load, “If God must break you, it’s only to remake you” he self assures, as the white light burns his eyes.
A rusty stopwatch in ragged company, the drunken conductor of the midnight symphony, the lost, the abused, the confused and the damned, the broken, th
Verses from the LostA copper coin discarded and tossedVerses from the Lost
we are the lost. The prodigal spawn riding a cresting wave about to crash down on a sandy white coast.
The burning ones who rock to and fro
to the synthetic beat of the motherland a whole people in tenement cages and enslaved once more to sports, sex and violence, rapping soft on death’s door and we are teenage slave masters with
green Franklin whips pleasing to the touch.
We surf through tubes and spaces
going to shady places that were once reserved for backrooms but now ambush those who search; search for
