momma momma momma

it was ricky it was ricky

momma don’t believe that it was ricky who done it

she thinks i killed him

momma momma momma

don’t call the fuzz

it was ricky it was ricky

in this town

words hold hostages

not meaning.

if i cry i will

bleed, and i will

lose,

integrity and i will

rip apart the frontdrop that has

made my portraits pretty

for (maybe) minutes on end.

I’ve never understood why people are so disgusted

by silverfish.

I like the little guys.

They way they scurry around from place to place,

they’ve always got somewhere to be,

perhaps because they don’t like where they are.

From the moment a screaming woman thrusts us into the world,

Soft, bloody heads first.

We begin to deteriorate.

For some, that occurs at a faster pace than others.