I dug 6 graves 1 foot deep

For cupcakes that I make

I keep making them, even though the holes get steep.

I cup my makings into cardboard cartons
and I started marking little messages in my cupcake pardons.

In this evening I have decided
That milk and marriage goes well with porridge.

I managed to surge and outsource our storage issue,
I made it pass us, and I still wound up missing you.

I've made it past us, and yet I still wind up missing you.

In digging a pitch garden made with stitches of ruined charcoal
I sowed into ten bowls made of silver
Ten showmen, made of clay and soul.

I knew enough to know I didn't have a second to have for myself first.

Still, it's worse to know I thirsted for a patchwork portion of stable
little points, painted on a thrift store surface.

I didn't care how clean or worn it was,
because it always does the same thing
and it stings my eyes
and dyes my curtains

It brings my lies
and paybacks certain.

Not knowing is enough.
Showing feels too tough.

I baked my show sinew, and stuck it in a stock ***.

It's a lot.
By god it is.
Caught in needlepoint necks makes my life something I could give.

Splintering sounds
mashing in rock slides

Spending a town's
worth of gold
on iron oxide

To explode
TO EXPLODE
with all out nitrate

To erode
TO ERODE
all of time; wait;

Here it comes near!
Here it comes faster!

Rusty Gold, Rusty Gold, your only disaster!

Rusty Gold, Rusty Gold, he'll make you life end faster!

My crush made me a stupid house made out of cardboard.

Because she is so stupid, she rushed her feelings, and made a made up world that she stole from frenetic fantasies and little xanax pills.


I was stupid too, and cooled her off with *** and comfy mattress pad because I felt like a badass for having such a badbitch in my comfy covers just because she liked my ****, and was too thick to think about how radical it was do spend all of her love with a crazy bull dozer like me.

I thought with all four of her welfare made eyes she could see just how beautiful and disastrous you have to be to get on the hilt of god's golden sword.

It's not beautiful.

It's dead.

and it's morbid.

1.  "This isn't how I saw my life ending..."

2.  "I don't end anything that feels so new.."

1.  "...can't breath."

2.  "Don't look at what I'm going to do..."

1. "People don't bend that way."

2. "Most people don't, that's true."

2. "Promise me you never felt anything."

1. "You know I would never promise anything to you."

I'm a cold person.

And I'm good at being cold.

I've been told I'm an old soul,

But I'm not so good at being old.


I'm not sold on the oversold notion
that being old means being tired.

I've felt the most old at my youngest
and my most ancient is when I'm most wired.