Heath Cawood

Portland, OR

written in a brazen forum. these are unbareHELLilitating terrors slashed out in conformed ink; my rants/ramblings to make it through today to an inevitable tomorrow. "fuc!k !you." a dream has risen in a Se7en of grime toiling illicitly, rooting calm tissu|nnerv ng. intended to impact you; not the world, to clutch a resonating pulse or indulgence. this is my vigilance/vengeance over myself with a name and a face. i'm still standing after all of this shit/turmoil.
self-damnation has it's girls, ___________, liquor, beer. .. . ibuprofen.
it doesn't have an exit sign, illegal.
enter and 2:30- 7 am.[closed]. are the only signs printed.
HELL is welcoming
say what you want and the guy from legend presses a floor number.
it looks like a blacked out hallway
, candle flames wisps for air,
lungs folding into their selves struggling.
if you don't mind memory ________, bl ncs.
"What the fuck."; diverge.
it kept me alive when i was fighting, desce.. . I.lo. .. .s. .
; savage.

Books by Heath Cawood

9-9 of 9 Books