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
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 – part 2
Was it a sequence Of words Drifting in and out Like the last time I tried to sleep Through the Drowning sands With silica dreams
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
By My Hand, With Love
Her father looked over the mess she had made. She could tell by the look on his face he was disappointed. She hated that look.
Float Away
I can hold you In my arms And tell you All the lies You’ve been longing To hear And mean Every word I say Because
