I think if God was a woman, I would love her...
the concept of having a...
A withering soul
lost between titles...
When you are this sick
time collapses on itself...
She was never one to cry publicly,
but during the eulogy...
Sobering words escape my pen
silence, a writers addiction...
Your eyes had never
tasted the colors of spring...
I spoke to my father for the last time,
His voice has passed on but he beats...
..And then the walls crumbled down to the floor,
but I saw no priest, not one savior on my door...
I remained sober for her eyes,
fire water never appealed to me...
When I can no longer bear
the ache of agony and despair...
I have
forgotten about you lately...
Empty little vessel
Sad twisted little thing...