I grow tired of the reflection How it always stares back at me Like an old friend I’ve watched over the years Condescending, knowing, judging

Author River Dixon
I grow tired of the reflection How it always stares back at me Like an old friend I’ve watched over the years Condescending, knowing, judging
On a dull return from somewhere I found myself enveloped in a lengthy discussion Bordering on debate, as to the truth behind The coveted emerald
I dared to lick the stars from your face That September evening, caught in the throes Of a downward spiral, coming from a place I
These malformed deficiencies of my soul Pull the strings of judgement, condemnation Navigating a fractured landscape, blind Projecting my own discretions tenfold Crashing against the
The Places We Haunt: Live Reading on Facebook Restless spirits with stories to tell lurk in the everyday spaces of The Places we Haunt—and now—they
I have never before publicly shared reviews of my work. I see a lot of writers do it and honestly, it feels somewhat pretentious to