song 8we are all of us shepherds to all of us kin. we are all of us infants trying to crawl back in. self inducing slavery with a grandeurous grin.song 8
i am tired of romancing the taxidermied body of your god we reduce each other down to just things to get our point across.
morning bumthe morning sky blushes, our eyes are deceiving. the moon light recedes, and its last sigh is grieving.morning bum
these moments are rushed, and the pages are torn. from those pregnant with joy, are our miseries born. sculpting your afterbirth, a visage of scorn. trying to fix up your life, with another reform. the days roll on endlessly, with each pledge thats sworn.
mothers coo ignorant: you must forget, that the tunnels of fathers are filled with regret.
us babes we cry terribly that mothers are gone. but mother
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