We play games like children;
white lies and hiding half-eaten pies...

Up away and here we go;
your the one with no fashion flow...

Time has displayed the worst of virtues,
hope is now hostility...

These times we are collapsing;
re-founding all our pro-foundings...

A man who is a house is a mouse;
my cat keeps me warm...

If a plant misses,
spark towards...

Sick, thick smell; stifles sweet,
heaven sent scent, stained like nicotine finger...

Thrown and ripped; torn and blistered -
an animals rage bores into beauty...

Mashed cliches rehearsed to obvious ends;
this tired writer bleeds wretched non-imagination...

Smiles grow like broken glass;
sticky ripped skin sing the perforation of your...

This darkness is milder than the last -
faint sweet breathes drifting by my side...

This writing ease is of little consequence,
quick scrawls and misfired words of penance...