Return

I could speak among the prophets and the poets,

But the wicked hand would slay my tongue.

I wish I wasn’t a cloud chasing imposter,

THE SINS OF THE FATHER CHASE THE SON

Unable to awaken my hunger

watching the separated lies

divorce me for my sorrow

where cannon fodder dies

living for no tomorrow

maybe ill die tonight

FUCK YOU AND YOUR SORROW
I FINALLY FEEL ALIVE

My empathy has run dry

For serpents and flies

in the broken mirror

that’s all I find inside

I’m not proud of my deepest wounds

Everything missing in I love you

A microphone shields my insecurity

screaming i’m not enough to keep

Just let me go as I spread my wings

from the belly of shadows inside

in the fire I fought damage control

flaming feathers and a beak of gold

I could speak among the prophets and the poets,

I could run from the barrel of a gun

Dead men spin no tall tales

In my dreams death has won

ON MY FEET LIFE HAS JUST BEGUN

DICE 2/21/25