speak easy, my love.

constantly im searching for answers, seeking out the truth. most of the imagery i use stand for people in my life, or different stages of what im going through in my life. the pinups i use are not in proportion or shown in a way that makes them look real, they are cartoony, garish figures. the birds symbols the need to flee, to try and lift myself up. the birds also are a source of strength for me. when my father passed, there were always birds around after, when i see birds i think of him.

spare, ohs.

the finches and sparrows build nests in my chimney what remains of the small flightless birds that you failed to protect but their yolk isn't easy in fact it's a drag as they're blowing through cornfields and mountains of rags  all over the suburbs across the great lawns crop-dusting gardens all over this town but nobody cares when it gets in their hair it gets in their lungs as it floats through the air it gets in the food that they buy and prepare but nobody cares when it gets in their hair  across the great chasms and schisms and the sudden aneurisms where the black ink will drip across the crespice of your eyes and your teeth are worth more than you can spare 
oh don't tell me that it just isn't fair don't speak about the cycles of life 'cause your thoughts are so soft i could cut 'em with a spork or a bride's knife and the wine made our mouths too loose
such a reckless choice of words when you tell me that i'm too obstruce i just thought it was a kind of bird i just stood there not saying a word

one.