They say

what doesn't **** us
makes us
stronger



LIARS....

Almost November, but the train left town a long time ago.

There must be something better than this tired beat down old rodeo.

Waiting on the winter, but the cold came a long time ago.

I can't be reliving young mistakes while I grow old.


Almost November, rails stretching much further than I can go.

I can feel the change in weather, but can't beat that smoking iron horse home.

Cold heart of this old sinner, leaning forward, shoulders low.

Given up on believing, past behind me, story told.


It'll soon be December, our hearts will grow colder.

Guess I'll keep this old jacket, and the bag on my shoulder.

Grow my hair long again, for when the cold wind starts blowing.

And it's you I'll be thinking of when the grey clouds start snowing.

r  Oct 2013

you used to be inspirational,
sensationally inspirational
in fact quite incredibly
the perfect source of
my originality
my imagination
you made words spew out
and run wild across
page after page of
passion
agression
angst
and intensity
mixed beautifully
in our perpetually
corrupted perfection.
but you've lost
your magic
your ability to make my
fingers scatter across
page after page
you've begun to
stifle and
suffocate
simply ******* the life
out of my
passion
agression
angst
and intensity
destroyed and crumbling
into bland pieces
of unoriginally
insignificant
nothingness.