Love has changed among us. The evening died, and we're unheavenly human in the daylight.
Cocaine can't quiet the conscience, but yes it's tried.
It's the dogma of deletion with a .45
She never thought much of herself. That she could write more than potboilers that rot a shelf.
In lonesome episode on the outside of her once romantic home.
We dissolve the family den, the rapture screen that showed the end.
Will my clarity stay?
Nectarine, ever so ripe, but the body's unclean.
My body's unclean, Spirit.
Discipline. The pocketbook light.
I've spent every dream.
I've spent everything, Father.
Left a dollar for a dime.
Sold the vineyard for a vine.
Traded armies for a life.
Maker of me.