Those grey years of angst,
Of treading water in a sea of tears...
I do recall, when life was sweet
we’d play hop-scotch upon the street...
Her hands
trembling...
As a child-
there was a game I thoroughly enjoyed...
Placing words
onto a page can...
maroon, and mottled.
stem worn thin...
I travelled the road of my desire
a path which led me to love-shire...
Have you ever been so tired
That your face starts to react...
Should we hold the flame of our tongues-
where words burn holes within our lungs...
My mind knows what it wants to say
But my mouth won't make the sound...
Getting along
sounds like a dream...
Wasted
Are the lives of the innocent through...