And sometimes we adopt these casualties as if they were our own, in the darkest of times, during the only thing we know as real.
The door opens. “Oh my god, the smell is horrible.” “I told you, I didn’t know what to do with it.” “Christ, how long ago
I have seen an old woman Sitting in a rocking chair The warmth of the desert sun Shining on her through the front window Surrounded
Fucking mirror. I have no desire to look at myself right now. But I can’t help but look. Each time, for just a moment during
I may smile at you But it stops there I don’t have much To give you Some words Nothing much at all There are
I dream of a place I may never know Where the sun shines down on me There’s no such thing as anger or hate Only