(2013)
How does a landed mariner ever tell a living soul about the exquisite rapture of the sultry siren’s song ? As it echoed through the mist,
I gaze down now upon the cracked and battered shell of the fearsome fiery dragon that once held me in her sway. It’s remarkable just how frail
Something whispers, certainly not nothing. A subtle impetus to choose to stir and rise
It is me. I am stripped down to my most naked intentions; having worn so many coats and less than noble guises.
Been wasting away in this hovel for too many days to count; wishing, hoping, scheming, sometimes even praying, for any way to get out.
Here he comes again, riding tall upon his hellish steed… Dead eyes red, charging straight towards me. No joy in that demonic laugh,
It seems the only way to reach the mountain-top, is through the desert wasteland. It is only there that one might come to learn
Look out there, see them, boy ? They want yer juice. They’re dry, them circlin’ desert… All they want's yer juice, boy.
There’s a fearsome beast within, huddled tense and waiting, in the furthest corner of this brittle heart. It lies alert to any signal
I come to the village well today, though without a need to drink. My worldly thirst now quenched, with home and hearth supplied. I am here to fill a deeper vessel
He’s been around the block and even toured the world, with scars upon scars to show from many a hard-fought battle. Yet like many old dogs
The storm is brewing. I smell it in the air. I am panicking. I fear this tempest might cost my life.
I am seven years old. My brother is ten. The beating was brutal. My brother is recovering conscious… I believed he was dead.
Way up there on that hill of yours; that most hard-won ivory tower. Hiding there behind your perfect guise
Beloved goddess, sweet holy mother of us all, you who beckon me throughout these hectic days