To camouflage their
smeared hands they deliquesce in...
some days is as if
i were an airplane being piloted by God knows what...
One and two are another paradox,
two absolutely diverse opposites...
When the crucifiers
crusade...
I love the darkness of winter mornings
A sense you’ve beaten the light of day...
The river remains
constantly there because she...
what happened to the days
when writing words...
Paranoid verses
trembling nude in my pocket...
You break it all up
in smaller...
You are incurable
because...
Does Real madness need audience?
Does the insanity of love, splendor...
Time is spiral though
without history it is...