A hundred angels
Another dream of “normal” life,
At a trash ‘n’ treasure market,
At the end of a life spent in utter pride
burn away the wool from the head
Casting a street light shadow,
Ensconced in the images.
even though I have Joy Division at top volume
First was the birth, of course,
From a box of old photos
how do we rule?
I am a thing / not a thing
I want to build a café,
I’m shifting the furniture of my mind,
I’m writing this because the doctor told me to.
in this binary world
it is all the fall
it was wednesday
I’ve heard them sing of a sacred chord,
once I bought a box of matches
sometimes it’s necessary to mess with (reality)
somewhere in the chaos are
The devil is in the detail,
the dr. prescribes the latest pills
The first candle she lit was for Grandad.
The phonies are taking over,
Under years of dust, at the back of the garage,
we all have a bird within us
we were Paris –
What else is there but love?
What if they came up with a pill,
When I last spoke to Cocteau
Years rust like dreams.
you stung my tongue