.


Collecting the years like a lazy butterfly
caught in the mouth of a lost time infested net.
Columbian Crush!

Where it never rains love nor money. ***** clothes,
***** hands, and
***** minds fill man's hole. Singing shotgun,
bottom feeder's cameras sling the dirt
and shoot the moon.
Wild childrens' vines still swing.

Will anyone here be voting next Thursday?

Remind me why time was killed,
so brutally gunned down in broad daylight.
He apologises as he secretly scratches her name
from his little black book.

Bartender,
another shot of Columbian Crush
on the rocks...