wings ripped from a bird on the pavement

Untitled #245

the wine helps the writing;
too many insecurities
waiting in the wings
for therapy to do any good.

the reefer keeps you honest;
the poet tends to exaggerate
what does and does not
love make.

too many ways to get it all wrong,
not enough to get it right...
time was never the enemy we thought it was;
i'm sorry i couldn't get home tonight.
Soapbox Artist: collecting art & literature of the worst kind