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A rusted, copper heart

Salad gathered on the rung of a ladder

Still feeling… I just don’t know how to explain it

Disinterested in most things

Impatient and irritable to a degree

But not shaking

Quick to anger at the mountain of gods

Remembering Raton and the Robin Hood Motel

Winter bliss at the border

Worried about a celestial soup of things

Must focus on her and the fact we have love

But  always looking outward at space

Too disgusted by the state of the world

Nervous about cooking

Nervous over noise

Memories of the tomato soup bitch

French foreign films

 A loneliness, an indescribable emptiness

Maybe boredom, restlessness, cooped up at home too much

Need to work, desirous of a paycheck

But I don’t want to deal with bullshit

Sometimes things feel good

The sun is out and crooked

The roses are blooming

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A reminder that my new book is now available for purchase: The Apocalypse Pipe. Available in both e-book and print editions! Thanks for reading and supporting independent creators.