Cupcake

I like cupcakes.

September 24th

In 1991 I became convinced I was going to die on September 24th.

Wilting.

“Daddy, what did you do at work today?”

“I sat in a dark corner with a gun, prepared to shoot somebody’s great-grandpa, who was just told he had stage 4 lung cancer, in case he tried to get away.”

Struggling With the Whispers of Angels

I’ve been struggling for awhile now. I don’t know exactly what it is I am struggling with.

Unexpected

I am happy. This may make you sad. I am sorry.

Not A Player

It’s early, but ominous. Poetry, sort of.

A Girlfriend That Didn’t Happen

I never write love songs. They’re too difficult. They require a level of perfection I cannot achieve. I’ve only come close for one girl, ever.

Hillary

a lyric posting.

Gone

a lyric posting.

Look

a lyric posting.