I, just got home from a month-long vacation and I've got some questions for your building commission. Who gave you permission to build, build, build
Armed with only a travel mug and a walkman I set out to find the car I'd left behind last night--not knowing exactly where it was. It was a cold day,
This is just a little note taped inside of my medicine cabinet. Some reaffirmation, attempted reincarnation of who I once was--and it's not regression
I saw the most ironic thing the day I walked through that door. They patted me down, they pulled my pockets inside out--all I could do was laugh as I
Light bulbs are blinking without reason and gas bills must be in season, can't open them quick enough, There's a strange squeaking in the walls and mildew
On the day you got evicted, it lacked a certain sadness, some feeling of depression that we all expected. Maybe it was just me, maybe I'm the only one
I'd like to tank the man who broke into our home. Sir, things haven't been the same since you've gone. Now we can't seem to sleep quite right, and we
Keep hearing that unemployment's on the rise, but the medians have never seemed more alive. Business must be good for the beggars, because panhandling
