My name, it is not Jack,
And I do not have a spring...
and if you ever feel like giving up-
Remember the stars in the sky...
Who am I?
One who hates to hear a baby cry, who loves eating...
Come climb aboard and pay your shilling.
Ride this death trap if you are willing...
One day
when I have reached the end of my road...
Colors scatter down Lansing street
like a box of crayons; drowning in a gutter...
Her hands
trembling...
She traced the cracks on the wall,
like she sailed within a map...
I smoke.
As it billows from...
The bright blade of truth
I draw from the sword sheath of...
we will never run out of
writing for the things...
Today marks one hundred years
ago the first world war came to an end...