(handed line)

My brain is the age brave men fought least and will was another short creature to comfort by dirty candle and distant falls.

(addle declares)

My brain is the homespun heart we almost left pinned three sheets deep and years before we kissed.

(winsome army)

My brain is the wound that bore fresh teeth and bone.

(carrion call)

My brain is the dust of a highway sigh.

(days out)

My brain is the crash that called to surface the men we called our loves in years before.

(arc folds)

My brain is the rain on green-eyed evenings.

(cursive light)

My brain is the debris still separating us from the wasteland where we once staked our claim as kings of this city.

(tin mention)

My brain is the simple man singing late but for the grace of god.

(advent endured)

My brain is a bloodless martyr watching better men descend from height unheard. unknown until the day he finally gave up and learned to hide in the calm, cool light of day alive and fucking alone.

(rickets hiss)

My brain is the duct tape dream reading (still in our drinks) 'rebellion, my love...in time.'