-
As more voices intruded
poked then prodded...
-
She existed only in the imagination,
Of the one hundred thousand dead...
-
I hear laughter
and it makes me cringe...
-
Panic attacks on the road
to recovery...
-
10:15 PM -
There's no sweet sixteen or forever twenty-one...
-
The exasperated sigh of a father is not like other...
His disappointment hits me like a jo...
-
-
---
i don't think the soul lives in our eyes...
-
---
sometimes i think we get so full and plush with...
-
Her poetry squeaks:
it is hate...
-
Childhood, like the white lacy foam riding on...
Gleefully surge on to the shore carrying exciting...
-
Cliffhanger
Teetering on the edge...
-
Her barren lands now sit naked
Just the signs of her dimise...