I have seen THE horror
of where the truth...
Was it always this way,
or just my oblivion was the sleigh...
My poetry is not poetry really,
if poetry is doomed...
The sadness creeps in,
unsuspected, unwanted...
if tomorrow you ask how i am,
i'm not sure how i'll respond...
To that person who drove, so careless today
Who missed me by inches and didn't give way...
Upon the perspective of the oppressive past,
the fragments of bygone prospects...
Without you
I am just a stranger...
In the darkness,
all the inks in the world...
a rose i drench with love
in hopes it’ll wither not...
you make the house your own.
paint the bedroom. repaint...
I don't know how to process
the twists and turns of...