waiting for waist deep,
I'm words,
I'm wasted,
I'm minutes that bit the dirt
to the tune of something catchy.

I'm as ugly as summers suffered
for love;
my lonely puts cathedrals to shame.

shame.
rings bell
shame.

it's ******, I know.

on a lighter note,
I'm bleeding out
in the ******* street.

dogs howling.

how was your day?

three-hour window,
might play a Friday all night
on a Tuesday.

the night we escaped
transitional housing,
most people were
boosting time from
the backkseats of old
four-door Fords
parked on their streets.

yea, the same ones they lived on.

while we lived on instant rice
and the prospect of drunk at midnight,
they were foaming at the mouth
in front of static on a screen.

yea, the same ones they lived on.

these days are fiends for our seconds
and we've been reckless with them
so far,
so I don't know.

my deathwishes snap twigs in the distance,
still.

I call you "mo chuislie"
its honey in a spoon
I know
but you should know that I
forget my heart beats
all the time and
I'm real ******* sorry
about it

no end,
no beginning.

I think a spider made this.

you know that feeling
you get when you know
you have the wrong house?

like that one drink that makes
your body say "we are done".

digging for empathy.

what was the German word
for "almost aliteriation"?

that,
is a one word tome.
my ego pours out
in the form of tears
and sometimes lines from
movies I think people should
see if they haven't yet.

I'm not crying.
I'm sideways on the interstate.
flying,
if you will.

if you build,
remember me
as gold in the afternoon sun.

please.