i make music.

bless your heart.

attachments...

... of a comfortable kind...

slow from sleep
she sees dregs of red wine behind a lead window eye,
and a new half-day takes her to the road and a smoke and jolly good time.

yes, i tried to find love but i couldn't.
i thought she would budge but she wouldn't.

i'm slow from sleep
body heat cuts into cold sheets and i'm finding there's nothing less prudent
than an ill-advised rhyme and a dumb body aching for more of her kind.