poetry

Galatic puddle,piddle paddle pouty lip pressure wash the smile right off my face

Burning the masterpiece this morning

White page blank soul

loving disturbance in the waters

Cultivate, dismember, devour

Shipping containers carry crumbs of my former self

1/29 snow

Boxing ring, bustier, bring it home to tame these troubled thoughts

If women were a matchbook men wouldn’t know the difference

Confessing love to a beautiful stranger i’ve grown to know so well

Und so sind alle Wände gepolstert

My existence is a lie: fashioning worldly problems into an ornate call center cubicle shaped coffin

This life is bondage

When muses maul their inspired with intent

She burned the shirt right off my back