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I messed up a lot of things. I called it poetry.

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Call Mess Myself Poetry

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With her, the world becomes art.
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Art Herself World
She’s like turning on the radio and hearing a brand new song.
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Brand Herself Music Radio Song
She could be anything. But she’s just a girl with a broken heart.
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Broken Heart Herself
Summer looks the same. But last summer she loved me.
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Couple Love Myself Relationship Summer
She was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.
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Artist Myself Poetry Sex
I gave her address to my soul. Ans she fucked the mailman.
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Address Herself Mail Man Soul
Failures often become art. And art can never fail.
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Art Failure Myself Wisdom
There’s this thing that hurts inside me all the time. Because I know what’s coming.
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Hurt Myself Time
I wake to find her there, with glowing eyes and tangled hair. She is my sunrise.
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Eyes Glow Hairs Myself Surprise Wake Up
I never drink in the morning. Mornings are for drugs.
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Drink Drugs Morning Myself
I messed up a lot of things. I called it poetry.
TONY COBLE

Call Mess Myself Poetry
There’s a strange beauty in her. She shines like hell.
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Beautiful Hell Herself Shine Strange
I liked her simplicity. She wanted coffee and orgasms.
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Coffee Herself Simplicity
She was a broken sky, where stars never shine and butterflies die.
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Break Butterfly Death Shine Sky
Lets die. Alone. Like we always do.
TONY COBLE

Break Up Heart Herself Summer
If there’s never been a restraining order, it ain’t love.
TONY COBLE

Command Love Order

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