Saturday, August 27th 2005
hope disappointed
the ending is as bad
as the rest had promised
Saturday, August 20th 2005
i'm
jack's
sweat
if i had a pump gun
the music would end
this instant
burying bad music
under distortions
is no improvement
easiest to see
are one's own failings
reflected in others
Thursday, August 18th 2005
the air caught in the
turbulence alongside the train
smells of dogshit
the clouds and light that
paint the evening sky did
a wonderful job tonight
safe from penetration
my ideas hide in the
darkness of my skull
Wednesday, August 17th 2005
there used to be
a time when my mail
was delivered to me
Tuesday, August 16th 2005
today one of
the living dead
spoke to me