Jon R.T.

47 year old amateur poet stranded on the planet surface taking poison. In a small Alabama town where no one cares to hear me lumber from the heart or rant the madness. Another son of the god fearing populace unwilling to see beyond the occasions I use the fire to melt the ice. Hang lighting in my eyes for eight hours or find me trying to put an unlit cigarette out, head nodding. Sent to bed without supper on my day off from flipping burgers.