by no means close to everything i've ever written. not even the tip of the hindenburg. this is merely a taster of my years as a neurotic smart-ass greaseball pretentious poet. wait for the book. it'll blow you away... rungs pause off the skyline pond songs for piano and reeds trust in your happenstance or hourly wage. be good panique sycamore nothing short of an abandoned take (and) the good of writing only on your vacuous arm rest can i perch my complimentary cigarettes one of those pieces where the title makes it all ok free the maggots speech from an unseen award show trash exclusive |