kansas red legs from mosquitoes in mustard ponds.
I survive my two day version on cross country train rides.
she abuses me on the street, looking so beautiful?
it's hard to see because it is darker in this part of town.
I don't have any money.
quake me at night while I wonder if I will ever visit Sweden.
poems are bullshit on edges of bed.
be still my patience while it is tried and hanged for losing itself in knuckles, again.
I sleep funny to ya.
I want to get drunk and lose ya.
sometimes poems dance away and vanish into televisions.
take my hand, devil, let's go back to sleep.