Somewhere between home and I-65,
I found you...
Me, myself, and I
foreplay inside tangled thoughts...
Lies are all I hear.They cover up the truth for...
I once heard that Tokyo, at night, is like a lost...
There are no businessmen to see, to act unbroken...
I'm tired-
of standing on the walls of your...
I see that line-
The one between scalp and skull...
Slithering along through the over grown grass
which has become his jungle home...
The pine forest must
burn to the ground for new trees...
I spent a long time wondering if I would be the
price that you chose to pay for your brand of...
As the tongue trips, consonants drip,
defaming dubious dissertations...
Petals
adorn the path...
The waste basket is overflowing
filled with crinkled paper...