Long ago
the story began
One ***** in a vein
spun out rhymes
Of the insane

A sweet girl gone
She will not go far
The tip of a needle
Will curse who you are

His hands choked her blue
Voices drove him mad
The addiction won
He lost all he had

Behind bars
he waits for letters
His poems got a few 
So many unsent
Now no place to go
Letters lacking a recipent

She wanted it to pass by quick
The time without him
The last letter she stamped and addressed
She wonders if he got it
Or did her words shatter his reason to live
Is it why his neck was slit

She wants to know if he opened it before committing to suicide

Two blue roses on his grave
Nothing went right
No happily ever after
To end the night

Now which way to go? I sit and ponder
It no longer matters
After all, I'm destined to forever wonder.


The needle left its curse, on and on she goes, reaching no farther than her toes.

The pungent waft of sweat ,beer and malaise in the dimly lit belly
Of this rustic little foundry the stinging clamour of
Mechanized machinery
Sparkling dross splatters the walls like an angry draggons sneeze
heavy laden hands throwing sledge hammers  at metals on the torments random lights flashing
raging hiss of plazma flame
And hearty laughter full of grit
sand lubricating the pit
Communicating involves over exaggerated gestures cuppin youre hands and screaming with a smile ,
leaning towards the recipent
From a safe distance
To avoid the accompanying  spit
A dizzying array chaotic cringe worthy things slowly without warning  an eclectic orchestra forming naturally,
Out of comradery,
Forging a violent symphany  
At the heart of which
The Crucibal almost overly
color enhanced
Gurgaling cauldren
Glowing Vermillion
1700 degrees farinhieght
Hypnotic
The way it boils rolls and flows
Like its unearthly 33 percent zinc yellow brass
Rain or shine
Yet another
Flawless
Masterpiece