the old words and adages are
stale; and yet
we all blaze up, in unison,
whenever there is
a chance.
one million rooms,
foaming with m/f violent
music; writing
to panic attack hangovers
and mythical
cigerette smoke. they lay
together, in the after
he came into the room with the snowflake-cold
and she blazed up.
twenty-five years later she fucks
a different man, the other boys
sliding like what-if what-if between
their bodies.
poem: bad free verse attempting to explain
the last pavilion 
Blown away. Was sort of cinematic experience
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[…] – failed dreams & zoloft1. “i tell God He has a lot of explaining to do”2. “bad free verse attempting to explain”& “vlog #19 winter night […]
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