Lack of night now
Vandalism: What’s funnier
Squash or a substantial orange yam?
In a manger? Spaghetti
Wake up with a headache
Not the night before, but
With death: What a dire truck
Skulls skulls skulls
Every man, doves,
In a mugshot
Looks like my father
For someone so obsessed
Shacked, dated, bored
I understand
The cup on mother’s head
Why you’d come, hawks,
Taking my jazz
They don’t aggress
Condottieri, becoming, of course
The subtext of acetylene
He should have come out and talked