the very sheets in which we sleep
are on fire
from peach pasts and pills that stole my soul.
criminals and brides.
perfect pictures.
send and die.
I won't share the tribe.
I won't share the Bowery Ballroom.
the guns are killing hearts of hearts.
this is our revolution.
finished with buck knives.
brandished at the email end.
was the roach still alive?
my feet are hot.
matchbooks.
my eyes are swollen.
my hands are shaking.
my heart has stopped.
I watch the flashes through your bedroom window.
In the morning, I want eggs with a side of eggs.
to whom are you writing?
that's at which I am firing?
pistol and bruises.
ready, level, fire!
you'll hit the heart.
I smile at the time traveling shacks.
we are invincible.
the meadows have ships and sheep.
and the ships have meadows.