To Manicured Hands That Will Never Be Shackled.
An Epistle of Betrayal I wonder what we will leave our children A scorched earth and the bitter Stench of hatred and division If there...
poem
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the sweater
i found your sweater today the one you gave me because you decided i was cold i was not cold just tired tired of being...
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meditation
the other day i was meditating, well i was pretending to meditate i wasn’t quite ready to greet the day i thought maybe if i...
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these suburban woods
sleep sweetly my young friend tomorrow is a new day we roll around and sweat it out until the sun has set we are now...
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growing pains
i haven’t made much lately my words come slowly my canvases are blank whoever said pain creates art i think they were wrong or their...
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was walking
i went walking with you when my world was just black and white we whispered under the willow by the big pond you know the...