| sorry about the mess. |


there's the rubi could circle your shine by morning, become the yellow sky dying to disappoint you,there's the rub
tying none of it together even though its right there.
pushed like being down is a compliment, i am partial to whitman and vinegar. i could carry children like carousels, consume them like caramels, chew them with my mouth open.
i could cycle from weak to weaker, talk water into crevices until everything rots,
not mind that black and white forgives a lot.
pushed like being down is a retreat, i am partial to this particular trick of


i am only trying to kill youhurried along the same mistakes in everything, the same pretended dying. were all gone, thrown to sidewalks and hurried along,i am only trying to kill you
demystified and flying the science, hurried along. no one lives and no one wants to. i am only trying to kill you. i am only trying to
sing you this song


like the shiftlessalways possibly walking into helicopter blades;like the shiftless
a face, a face defines a foray into empty grace like the shiftless; dismissed out of hand,
always possibly clinging to guy wires;
the ones keeping the world in place.


the cold everywheresprint the side street and the undercurrent of the story how youve been defeated, masterfully sewn to the sheer, a bone thrown to the vegetables match the sound to the ear. i am tattooed on the small of her back when she bends over, attuned to her voice when she swethe cold everywhere
| sorry about the mess. |
--
Bullshit is only laudable amongst those who bullshit, and know it, and are full enough of it to be amused.
sorry i'm so slow
--
why do writers write? because it isn't there.
thomas berger
--
Bullshit is only laudable amongst those who bullshit, and know it, and are full enough of it to be amused.
--
suddenly it's clear to see it's not them but me, who has lost my self-identity. As I try to hide behind my poetry
--
why do writers write? because it isn't there.
thomas berger
--
--
why do writers write? because it isn't there.
thomas berger
For being sweet.
--
I won't rip out these pages because I swore I'd never lie to you.
--
why do writers write? because it isn't there.
thomas berger
Previous Page12345...Next Page