We have other
cowboys in the
dining room
**** the

One day you will learn not to dream at all
In two days the bliss of stupidity will wrap you in blankets fresh out of the dryer
The third day will bring hunger
Brief hunger
For things just out of reach
You won't make it to a week

Arguing with disenchanted fractions of lust
Conserved in tributaries of fickle vestibules
Tactical pin ****** tranquilly distribute the crux of all misunderstood and demoralized charlatans
The levee enveloped in a felt like fabric
Dense and coarse
It had a mnemonic quality
Crafting a picture of my childhood bedroom
Mother would be oh so proud

"Most poetry books are a waste of paper"
(I know)

I met a man
He was eating his own heart
I asked him if it tasted good
He only looked at me for a second
And continued to eat
He paused half way threw and said
"Blood and only blood turned the wheels of time, and I am a master of my own."
Waste of a good heart if you ask me

All lives end
Quickly
All hearts are broken
Softly
All dreams are touched
Briefly
All questions answered
Once
Every angel
Reached
Every secret
Whispered
Every idea
Put in its place
The wheel turns
Nothing is ever new