.177

burnt out
letting things fall apart
stewing in my own juices
spinning my wheels

so yeah

flying under the radar
trying to get over
trying to maintain

.176

Toledo is the devil-
but you didn't hear it from me.
i've seen him and been near him
many times - the times of my life.

Sooner or later
he will reveal
the blackness
of his soullessness.

There once was a life
that began and went straight.
Straight up a tree.
Straight to hell.

Toledo's the soundtrack
to my scariest moments-
the scarce-est of moments-
the times of my life.

.175

its a sad stretch
that lays ahead
the damaged flesh of
walking wounded
work / good times
along the way

it's largest
when the sky is blue
life's limitations

without direction
broken / castled
again & again

i obsess
whenever the
moon is swollen
as my head lays

bottled / captured
hangs down