I made a promise To an old friend That I’d be back This way someday But a restlessness Sleeps down Inside me Burning questions In
Author: River Dixon
Just someone who enjoys writing and reading what others have written.
Visceral Perdition – A Collaboration
How did I find my way here? It wasn’t supposed to be this way, was it? Looking down at my hands, I see them holding
The Poet
Somewhere within These illicit words Is an addiction Strung out On hope Stained With screams Of regret Colored With mortal decay Left thirsty Stripped To
Too Late
It’s too late For the light to change These adornments Permanent Fixed to the existential Crisis of the moment We find it better To run
Colder Than Before
If I could have seen Known this, years before When I had nothing No color, only sound Echoing throughout, between Innocence in the past tense
What We See
We see angels And we see demons They carry These things We can’t let go Dancing from Room to room Through doors Left open In
