She walks where the ocean brakes,
along a faulty shoreline...

I've been waiting here.
Untouched unless cobwebs were brushed from my head...

Left behind by the sunset,
she calmly waits by moonlight...

We choose our target.
Set a mark...

Trapped in a cell,
meaning to simulate natural habitation, in pity...

Just walking
not feeling...

I wrote this poem in remembrance of a real...
Kenny’s Cry...

When the first flowers were born
from drops of sun-kissed ice...

I want to see trees,
that spring from the ground...

Shaking hands turn black with poisioned words.
A secret, smeared and staned, that you've hidden...

She concentrates on her fingertips,
tugging at the hem of her skirt...

When she laughed, the hissing lights caught her...
and stayed in her eyes as she began to speak...