Ask any man that has eighty dollars in his pocket and he’ll tell you that two-hundred of it is already gone.
I watch the rain pelt the other side of the window and I think of dead spirits in new engines of men that are not men anymore of fake plastic glitter neon entrances to pain. I think of dolls filled with snakes and smiles that lure you into bottomless pits. I think of how money […]
This is the time of night when the cold wind rustles the dead leaves when all the flowers wither up into little balls of dried nothingness where the radio plays the same song over and over again as factories close and politicians get reelected the wheel turns and turns deeper into the mud the children […]