Atkins dye it in Memphis

Gibbs is without a dragon on a cold Tuesday night
but baseball is on thats whatsup
so he is feeling just alright

Go back to his Room paid for by his company I sit in his car name is fucken me

Slow to goddam French pride. Salty fries American slight

Who knows we reach for fried food in this

Fatso cry

who stole our walk past that hotel bar never know what’s gonna happen once inside

just nothing or maybe another night

of poetry maybe another

He just climbs

thats the elevator

falls asleep In drunken pride

If you choked back a mouthful try

to talk into his phone

In 20A in Hebrew cries out rain drops and monotone

Maybe this will be the night that he dies in the way in that he goes

Like Elvis on a toilet in a fieldhouse

comatose

The wind it slows.

I stepped outside for his last few bites cold rain upon his face

To feel the rhythm of mother Earth who

just to escape the human race

Another. Knight when is this overrun seems so bland I’ll too want to die

Was it once? so was it fun?

won’t pay attention to what was sought

The earth us overrun

And I’ve lost my train of

Thought

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