making progress but getting no where
six years, four months, and . . . .
under my thumb
you learn how to said goodbye
you learn how to make me say hello
stealing the girls i want
warmus
empty bedrooms and sweaty clothing
i like it when you said my name,
even if it wasn't 'sweetly'
falling in and out of dreaming
tyrrell wants me against the chain link
old blue monkey in the morgues of day of the dead
third picks and watching the light cascaded thro the grass
beirut, bite marks, and hating myself for
dumping you, letting you do that to me the other night, and wishing you didn't like me that way
i can't write, post stoned, and perpetual blue balls for you
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