Winter bares a tree
of leaves while Summer dawns to...
He was very Conflicted about his brother.
A fast man...
Maybe dreams should be feelings and
not money makers. Things like...
The grasses freshly cut in lines
of intention. Leaning forward...
I dedicate this poem right here, this poem goes...
On his roller-coaster ride everything seemed...
I wrestled with darkness,
under a grieving moon...
Our stories are forever etched in time,
like a tattoo's unique design...
What is feminity?
She smiles a bit lost...
A multitude of fragmented words
filter in a cesspool of ink...
His baggage is heavier than mine
and the spirits of the place can't understand...
Theres lead in my pencil, ink in my pen,
paint on the brush when an idea reveals...
Late September
eleven souls fly...