no one is home
no she is not there
anymore
too many hospital beds
in one week
too many dying shes
under the guise
of january
the name of the game
is muerte
turn over
palm and up
over fork over
calling my blood
the spirits of brick
50/50
tartan schtick
even rodents
know the route
of late night
trains
the way
tracks are paved
and wins made
every ounce
put into it
the virtue of
casting
for
shit
1 Comments:
"and still I rise"
you inspire me...
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