What happens when the dreams are comical and the senses are rusty?

Your face is drooping and my heart goes along for the ride.

Pity isn’t the word; they’ve let to come up with one.

Puzzles are the saying of the heyday

Come with me and configure the death of mysteries.

Black suede and the tea to match


I’m sitting waiting for them to come


I left you at the Alter… Tell me you’d forgive a broken girl.

False impressions. Lost smiles. Understandings of fallacies and loses in reason.



Its midnight hun, Wake to the morning.

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