45*21

great gads sure sound nice
the chirps of villains
my paint is almost dry
green as embers dying
now there's a sound to think
he in his sandals thinks he's so wise
saying what he knows
saying how he knows
does his trumpet tune?
Greenfield is the Bushwick of Mass
paint it dark gray and it illuminates many colors
my stomach hurts from beer
we sleep in combs
remember the embers
railroad tracks
orgasms along the berry fields
it's not worth noting
I'm hunger for sky sometimes
late at night when I take my piss
in the driveway and then it's silence
almost