The Lost Boys
Goodbye Thursday, no one misses you.
Snails move slow on a regular Friday, "Regula", A friend of mine, whom defies the very meaning of the word. I think its his life work to prove that word wrong breaking patterns and spaces between meanings Like him, this …
With solitude
She sells sea shells
A fools debate
Flippant thoughts
That last time, finished all that was left of me I feel like the American soldiers in Iraq Boiling in hot air as the vultures circle lower and lower Walking bent through the desert And oh how my journey has …
Gypsy Bird
Becasue words would pail in you true nature and only have substance through distance, because i'm not ready yet. And I am sorry im not stronger.But I want you to know I never loved anyone more. To die one day knowing that gives me no more fear of dea
To know in an instant your ip address is ready for delivery To ready my transmission accordingly withholding nothing releasing all uncertainty setting back an whole planet of recursive lists on carbon manuscripts play games with emotions and question why …
After Forever
Perchance to Dream
Adulation
The Terse and the Breviloquent
Vagabond Inn
It was built whenever been there since I was a tike like scribes left us fat books that contain the odor of times forgotten filled with withered leaves these that sang themselves disgusted with rhyme poet vagabondian airs beats of …
Celebratory celibacy
People dance I write They raise voices to the moon from back alleys First floor balconeys I write They celebrate Thursaday as Friday Friday as Christmas Halloween mass Birthday zoo 2AM Sundays Saturday all day I write I write them …
Front Yard Bonfire
With Solitude
When I while all are sleeping and the alley cats have long left their echos off the walls and the moon is a great pale hole in the back blanket of life far above anything known or seen when I …
The 99%
Don't taze me bro
I didnt know crazy till I got older, Thought I was bold enough to hold a whole ocean of emotion. Know body told me I was joking. Or chokin on the words I had spokin Wrong was my minds image …
An Ode to the Moon
Goodnight Sweet Dreams
When holding onto angels
Good Grief & Great Lengths
The Shores's Bride
The Oceans Beach
We were always moving but running away from nothing Always feeling like a disobedient dogs being drug into something called life Unscripted badly improvised while everything inside cried out for a plan I buried the map right here in the …