Tuesday, December 15, 2009


Nighttime is the hardest place
to soften these thoughts of dark
prisons taking new dominion of my
being to leave me pissing in the fan of my
beliefs-New day dawn shadows of normalcy
following me in the wrong
direction to OZ or ZO. Id
is my master of illusive whispers, promises, unfulfilled
with crown molding. Dolling out dinero for diapers
to help get the job well-done with a slight chance of rare. Holy
Jesus, save me from this crime and I won’t do it again, until the next
time you aren’t looking. Please put a stop sign in my
brain so I will get off this wheel to

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