.i'll continue drinking and writing my attache verses for one reason alone... the culinary Frankenstein, needs to be erased from both my memory, and my palette.

death: solace for the few,
                 that delve(d) into life.

i don't know,
i just like the way it sounds,
akin to:

   (have you) ever danced
with the devil, in the pale moonlight?

or...

a handshake with your own
shadow, is, the devil's pact.

sometimes a violin is just a violin
is a violin...
     not exactly the gimmicky
paupers' instrument of choice...

a handshake with your shadow
is... the devil's pact...

hey... i wasn't born to be
a mechanic...
    sometimes the sound of
car engines aren't exactly
******* emblems to propagate...
"****"...
   like the sound of a beehive
isn't something honed,
giving you a symptom of:
necessarily running toward it
to see what's more
to see than a collectivized
agitation reaction, hostile.