Sorry for syllabic self loathing. Words were my armor, and made for comfortable clothing. While I dug ever deeper, my own grave exposing. The familiarity all too foreboding. So beware the bereaved, that lonely leads in. For, I sparkle more than the unknown contents of your dust bin. Just enough to relate to, and therefore… Continue reading Disarmored
Category: Poetry
My Vera
At least my Vera wasn't vicious. She could have ripped, but kissed instead, the freshly woven stitches. Call her another stone in my fallen wall, call me wrong, and then dissolve it all.
The Loss Taste
When I found freedom in forgiveness, to my soul's rebirth, I soon stood as a witness. For, to grow we must explore, those dark parts we hide, and most abhor.Or embrace, In the rare case, that you've grown to ignore lines on your bare face, and you've lived for time tossed aside, in an odd… Continue reading The Loss Taste
Dim Opus 