see no mod made No.8 |
Sail well on, you dove in fires...It chimed, you said I've seen a need...Of thee steel foilcopyright@2008
Posted by Fenson on Wed, 28 May 2008 10:02:00 PST |
Absinthe & Lovers No.3 |
Hope it was worth it feeling like this& The whirling behind my eyes, the lightness of breath&It's a simple way to make it till the light&If you have enough&The right dose&Can you feel the freedom in y...
Posted by Fenson on Mon, 26 May 2008 07:35:00 PST |
Paradise Lost |
Look at the world that I've handed to meFalling apartLook at the world that I've handed to meLost from the startLook at the devils all dancing around meSinging their conceitLook at the world that I've...
Posted by Fenson on Sun, 20 Apr 2008 04:46:00 PST |
Waltz No.3 |
When the cracks of the sidewalk are too even to stand, and the weeds in between reach to you with new plans, that force you to blanch the cracked nails of your hands, with no chance of anything but wa...
Posted by Fenson on Sat, 19 Apr 2008 08:20:00 PST |
Isn’t It So Matic... |
Isn’t it problematic that we have to spend our lives dodging thinly read people, suffering from varying levels of arrested development, all the while pretending to be so serious when they’...
Posted by Fenson on Thu, 10 Apr 2008 06:35:00 PST |
Absinthe And Lovers No.6 |
Everyone brings me closerThey only smile to let me see their teeth They tell me they want to feed me my smileThey want me to knowThey lean in and caress my cheek Whispering while they sweat on meTouch...
Posted by Fenson on Sun, 30 Mar 2008 06:19:00 PST |
Talkin Pittsburgh Blues |
A girl told me today Pittsburgh is where all the cool people are. Drinking in a view, that won’t console their doubts, of the point at dusk from Mt. Washington. Flicking a cigarette into the All...
Posted by Fenson on Sat, 29 Mar 2008 09:50:00 PST |
Home |
Where you need only read the design on a pair of jeans or sip your latte on sunset to be reminded that beauty can be bought. Where you learn your place by how someone else holds their cigarette, and w...
Posted by Fenson on Fri, 28 Mar 2008 11:56:00 PST |
Machine Rag No.1 |
Beneath the bloated skin of a shallow man, a skull for a fist and a pencil in his hand, with sycophants shinny like a marching band, notices with delight weather dreams can be canned, and with a smile...
Posted by Fenson on Thu, 27 Mar 2008 08:18:00 PST |
