You, my friend,
Deserve things like spring as reference to your majesty.
But nothing draws conclusion in the bones of your face
When you've dismissed a kiss right off the lips
And straight into the gutter of my life.
Here,
Where my body was left empty and tormented for years,
Caked by the loose skins of an oversized heart,
Finally worn too thin.
A Sonnet Both Ugly And Murderous
A Sonnet Both Ugly And Murderous
Ballad Of Circling Voltures
Ballad Of Circling Voltures
Tantrum
Tantrum
Tantrum
We Left As Skeletons
Tantrum
Sounds Of Gravesites
The Lonely Waltz Of Leonard Cohen
The Lonely Waltz Of Leonard Cohen
Goodbye, Face
Goodbye, Face
Life In a Box
My Application To Heaven
The Hollowed Out Chest Of a Dead Horse
Skinpack
Skinpack
More Complicated Than a Sci-fi Flic