The kid and I had a conversation about death and last words. I was trying to keep the sound of a Tom Waits piano out of my head but damn that stuff is good.
By Anthony Dahm5 years ago in Poets
There's a mudslide and the tar oozes southward upon a village of darlings, a cold stale tear drop from the minds of the trees,
We were in that old place. You know the one with the doors that wouldn’t shut easily so you’d need to give a good shove? I’d mostly kick it real hard at the bottom corner.
I suppose it is something to try. You could say that it’s something to do. I’d say I guess that could be true, but the root of the matter is not that I’ve grown bored out of my mind boarded up… but rather that I’m
She twirls passed midnight. The full moon’s glow illuminates the ripe fruit and before my eyes she bats her lashes. She twirls in stockings and The Music in the air holds me still.
I don’t want to be awake. I don’t want to pour myself a glass of water. I want to sit here and smoke. I don’t want this cigarette to go out. I don’t want the song to end.
I swear paranoia is like a zit I’m wearing on my face. However if I didnt fuck with it so much maybe then it wouldn't be so noticable.
He’s got greasy jet black bangs reaching over dirty brows, hanging like curtains above mud pie eyes. He’s in cold sweat with icy yellow fingertips
Oh, you spoke on The Wheel of Misfortune... The real shit is in the mush beneath that thick skull of yours. The real prick will come from a thorn on that beautiful rose.
You don’t need to be ashamed of who you are. You don’t have to apologize or regret or feel bad for anything you want or lost or need or had.
I once heard a woman say that if she saw a hair on the toilet she wouldn’t use the restroom. Others nodded in agreement. Another one would die if they touched an egg.
Brightly these stars burn with blue flames on ice cubes in my half empty glass of whiskey. Does she miss me when she’s not with me…on the phone
