fire watch,
wasp in a wine bottle;
I'm dying to stop thinking
of dying in your head.

I'm fine.
I'm not.
I'm lost.
I'm dead.
its wonderful.

time stops,
curtains pulled.

morose;
more roses though.

war grows like posies
out of pockets.
I've slowly shown self to sun,
still numb to the progress.

gunsmoke, never.
I love "broken" more than
I ever cared to admit.

well, I guess I just did.

was this despondent enough?

the early hour silence
reminds me of shadow puppets
I could never guess.

oh well.

the apple's loved with the oranges.
the swarm is sick.

oh well.

life seems to be just a constant
shaking off of addictions;
one by one,
one by one.

eyes in the ditch,
****,
one by one.

what if I what?
what if I what?

whenever I see New York
I think Dryspell,
always.

thank you.

even though I chase truth through hallways
elsewhere
I've stayed loose while the car crashed,
so to speak.

so again,
thank you.

you were sunflowers
to my grey tones.

it's all so far away
that I can smell it through
closed doors.

it all just rolls like smoke
under buzzing streetlights;
are we the moths or the bats?

whose to say.
I think...
too much, in fact.

it goes,
it's gone,
it's nowhere;
I watch honeybees dance atop
baby's breathe from a jail cell.

it's all so ******* gorgeous.