Ah writing
It’s like fire burning wood...

I remember when we used to play...
streets were puuddles spitting gravel...

Is it possible God...
That we are like flour being sifted...

Oh sweet heart
I can feel your ache...

Some days I’m a wilted flower
yearning for the clouds to rain upon me...

Poetry, you were but specks of dust underneath the...
crumbles of cookie Oreo next to my touch pad...

i miss this
you and me...

“my soul is …” she said thoughtfully
“wait. Hold that thought. Let me get a glass of...

guide me, help me
like you always do...

I thought you were the cristalline waters
In a river...

“I know. I know.
There’s much to be done...

Acclimatize my house of reason, dear Jesus.
These seasons are treasons of an evil beacon...