donate to ya boy

Monday, August 13, 2012



art-deco architecture,fetch-in a single word. More so, wretched & a foot,bushwa:lude.
smooth wrist bones broken at the disco.
you know,
she does too.
this world will be all right without either of you.
you'll be lucky not to be trampled on,danced over,
glances lowered.
for its not in the way you pray
its what you do day to day that makes you a saint.
with my eyes closed,I see in splattered paint
baptize myself in the rain
understanding the meaning of life is
courage & strength


but I dont live anywhere
here is not a lair
it is a patio...with shrubs,overcast skies and espresso.
Humbums,who have a say no more...
for often times...I am too loyal.
Spoils of war is the knowledge bestowed,
its a landslide though.
this is an ode to the beautiful barista girl, the one with the button nose,curly hair and no make up

the one whos smiling at me,and has no idea Im writing to her.


I drive aimlessly around the front range...
taking pulls off my cannibus pipe
accompanied by the sounds of "naked city"
I feel rather alive.
Inside,is a heart which races
my brain has facial recognition software
and Im tasteless.
morally raped,I continue this stale mate with my emotions
the comotion signals a devoition to substances
& producing blues.
summers lonely rules.
To think,at one time I had so much love to lose, funny how the world turns...


giant steps to little places
all I asked for was a room with a veiw.

No comments:

Post a Comment