fatzack

Tonight I’ll shave the mountain . . . I’ll cut the hearts from pharoahs. I pull the road off of the rise, tear the memories from my eyes, and in the morning I’ll be gone.

I drink 1000 shipwrecks. Tonight I’ll steal your paychecks. I paint the sheets across my bed. The birds will all fly from my head, and . . . in the morning I’ll be gone.