(2014)
Been wasting away in this hovel for too many days to count; wishing, hoping, scheming, sometimes even praying, for any way to get out.
I came to bless you with the mystery, and shine my light on you. I did not know you could not risk the light,
These words are crude utensils, with which to touch you, and be touched;
These words I cry do not come easily; as if they echo from the cold stone depths of a long forgotten tomb.
Sometimes I worry what you’ll thi… about these words I spew upon this… Not often. Not for very long. What of the form and structure?
A sudden gust of bitter wind from somewhere hot and foul, whooped and howled throughout the scattered waste and scrabble down that God-forsaken alley.
If I could steal you out of time, there would be no place to hide. I would finish what was started when you left me here to die. It’s not vengeance which I seek,
My bucket had a hole in it. I kept trying to fill it. The more I tried, the more flowed down the drain. It wasn’t for lack of what was nee…
“Don’t say anything!” spoke the shadow in the doorway. I was seven years of age. I lay limp upon the couch, still recovering from
I’ve been so afraid to speak these heartfelt words. This secret has been kept so well, from myself, by myself,
I see no reason now to disguise this naked heart and soul of mine. You can hide there
My father has come to dinner; He does not knock. He is not welcome. He is dead. Yet he insists on joining me
Is there any way I might touch yo… that doesn’t skim right off the su… of your exquisitely contrived vene… Is there a plea which I might utt… that would stir you from within?
These words, are just what they’re meant to be; for you, whatever needs they serve to stir… For me;
For those who only know oasis it must be difficult to fathom another way of life beyond the wal… amidst the shifting dunes. Those that follow gypsy trails
