Swallow the son


Your sin is not my shade


Ignited alive

On paper

This trauma mastery

is a dime bag of bull shake

Holy Shit!

For Fox sake

Your fragile egos

Eat sensationalized lies

For breakfast, lunch and Donner

Inglorious gluttony

Insatiable beasts

Running at break neck speed

A spectrum of death

Walking, talking paraplegics

Choking on grey matter


Night mares

Galloping towards collective gallows

Burning truth speakers

On pitched forks

Pitching them down

Donut holes

Swallowed whole

Gallons of

Liquid poison

Consumptive predilections

Perversions of enlightenment

I can not stand

The it wits any longer

So from the flames

Pooling in my belly

By weeks end

And merciless


Day light

I burn bright


Sunday night is a Ruth-less bitch. I just wanna go home.

Thy book people shall be my people and all my babies will be comprised of pages.


10 thoughts on “Fire Bird

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