Sweet Damnation

How does this suppose go, in my arms that do grow weary as time does slow, a path I do suppose know? Shall I assume to embrace the ways your face or race runs me all over the place; I’m tired and question days. The time I knew so familiar, as I walk the path…

Burn The Bullshit

Seemingly cliche is a lifeless exterior form that deviates the ways of what is the known. I’ll be there between the picture painted I am complex in a hole where forms often lie. I look up at the fan I am as if a phoenix burn this cycle of rhetoric because I came to learn.

Our Little Creations

I made a universe today from broken parts in the palm of my hand the sand I lifted to lips I do breathe. Shall I be as a master of portals I will flow down? I can think of no nicer gift a creator gave to be found. I am a spark in the dark…