There's No Chance At All: We Are

We Are Here To Laugh At The Odds.

The Less I Needed, The Better I Felt.

Where Some God Pissed A Rain Of Reason To Make Things Grow Only To Die.

I Have Seen Too Many Men Wilt And Go Silly Under A Little Light, And Then They Continue To Write And Get Published, Turning Out Pure Crap Under A Name That Has Become A Bad Habit. The Next Poem Is All That Counts. You Can't Stand On Past Poems.

We Waste Days Like Mad Blackbirds And Pray For Alcoholic Nightsour Silk-sick Human Smiles Wrap Around Us Like Somebody Else's Confetti