“We all have two lives. The second begins when you realize you only have one.”
Boisterous through the reverie he makes
a claim to himself, staking it
then and there, idea saved,
knowing full-well he’ll only rot it later.
The caption on his life is a poorly alphabetized
appendix of Continue reading
And slowly we are all victims.
These reticent minds
of callow choices
and poorly built
arguments of straw.
The wind is coming.
We never Continue reading
My fingerprint makes papercuts,
All I touch turns to blood and rust;
I hardly write before it shuts
the cover and I must adjust.
I sleep through day but dream at night
because that’s when the stories show
their Continue reading