There are lines that cross the void between the...
and shape them to their fates...
She was not mine to love
and still I would give...
The best writers have childhoods
where I have an empty jar...
Opening to the world,
the window in my room...
Self appointed importance can
never be accepted by others...
"Every end has a new beginning"
Hope stood betwixt...
Still, I dream
Seeping through the white texture...
The vapor sacks
dwelling places of my clairvoyant thoughts...
It would begin as a whisper,
softly breathing lonely words in my ear...
Life's Bitter Harvest
time...
Weak of mind
Faint of heart...
A bitter wind blew through the reeds,
Inciting every falling leaf...