From the Author
With each piece that I write, I look at the former one(s) as garbage and not being good enough. I try to raise the bar with each of my works, so I don't think that there will ever be a consistency per se, unless it comes from knowing my voice. And while maybe that is just the narcissist artist in me, I think that perhaps it's just me being hopeful about my next endeavor.
I guess, for me, White Elephant was a bunch of crap that I was dealing with and didn't really want to anymore, and I had again planned my suicide, smearing my blood on pages 117 and 118, before deciding to go out for a homeless experience in an attempt to regain some joy from the world. So, if you think this collection is crap too, my apologies, I promise things will keep getting better.
From the Inside Flap
Licking your lips in anticipation
You can feel it enter you, losing control
to elements powering nations
An engulfing madness sold to young and old
And easily bought and sold
Marching along the transparent consolidations
The right price to turn greed into gold
But nothing changes, only the accommodations,
And people just keep coming by the carload