I would give anything for the relief of
an unbelievably fresh, sleek, sharp razor blade...
I never knew my name translated to “the moon...
Maybe that’s why I am the way I am...
to Kaveh and the stars of his eyes.
It was a Sunday sunny afternoon...
I use to be a writer
a painter, a muse...
Water dribbles past the icy sheath
and pummels sandstone with its shine...
Repetitive emotions
scatter like squirrels...
How does love only
Take seconds to fall for you...
I hate you and all that you stand for,
You don't give a thing without keeping score...
Waked up early by a frantic
Tim, my road buddy...
Bleeding hearts and hollow eyes
Splintered souls and stifled cries...
Every brick was black
The paintings pale...
Yielding to everything you see, I begin
Oozing hatred and condemnation...