Strange workings These days The inner Twisted to outer Painted with lies They no longer smile No need to hide True intentions For we are
Category: Poetry & Prose
Everything We Waste
in solitude we find that which brings a lost dialogue on the contemplation of what it means to be without the need for admiration or
Absurdity
This continuum of madness That plagues throughout Wringing hands and picked scabs Passed from seed to full bloom In the blink of an eye That
Bread and Circus
there’s a reckoning coming birthed by the hand of man that will shatter the brittle foundation on which we stand, foretold by false, celluloid prophets,
To Stray
Clandestine visions offered Of an eternity swept under The rug with fanciful assurance Too late, in the end To crawl out from under The weight
Sacrifice
Lay me down On a fleeting Expanse of stillness Caress the waves Over my lassitude As I embrace The reticence within Spreading forth From open
