My fingers yearn for a time
when they penned...

Words fall from my
mouth much like...

You'd think after drowning repeatedly
that eventually I'd learn...

Time
is a fickle illusion that...

I thirst for routine.
Even as my shoes are swallowed up by...

The ashes from my cigarette
fall intermittently and mix...

Bankrupt eyes are
fixated heavenward...

I've made Hell feel like home-
and it's the closest thing to...

Sarcasm drips off your lips,
maliciously corroding my throat...

Familiarity is the taste of nostalgia
and betrayal...

My feet are mirrors of
the eggshells I've...

She is the first flower of Spring -The bold bloom...
She is the smell of rain in Summer -The light mist...