I keep getting back in line, trying to get the latest you.
Black Friday
Saturday
Sunday
Monday
January, February, March
All fuckin year.
You upgrade more then my iPhone, cost more.
Radioactive waves dig in like fingers through ground beef.
My eyes,they bleed trying to see you.
I am a preferred customer of bullshit.
Consumer of flies.
YOU ARE READING
Ghosts in my yard
PoetryThis book is dedicated to relationships, human and substance,it's all the same. Pain will leave enough scar tissue for a suit of armor but love, it is out there.
