Sniffing the wildwood flower that blooms in the inkwell of my mind, where once there were woods. Now insanity vines deeper than my tattoo of grief—I carve the veins in Mama's wrists, blue as the bruises left by her...

  I want them, I need them, I gotta have ‘em I covet timepieces like I’m building a shrine My collection is growing and yet I want more Everyday I look for new and classic designs   I’m entranced by their automatic movements The gears mark...

lick the madness and taste the bedlamsanitoriam green speaks the truth of the placehaunted rebellion when I dare not to behavefour point restraints left in a padded cellmy crime speaking to spiritsthe powers that be plug in like electicity...

Your hands are a slow, deliberate scriptsnowing cold glass frozen in marroweach syllable, a fucking shardwhere my lips have beencarved into your flesh—up to my toesiesthe cunt has wornInto a hollow, seeping starepulsing for sharp kisses in the airyou...