Walking

Walking is the bloodletting of the dark contents of my brain onto the pavement where they stay safe & secure as I move forward into the day.

Pieces of Me

I have been scooped out bit by bit and am hollow inside but for a few rotting pieces.

The Past

I’m having a nostalgic day. Somebody opened up the past and I jumped right in without thinking.

The Dream

Everything I want is knocking on the door begging me to open up, but I can’t get the damn chain off the lock.

An Instant Message

I heard your voice, shattered pieces spiraling through empty space, but you did not speak.

The Mist

The cool of death collides with the warmth of life while spirits rise from the ashes left.

On Writing

When I tell and don’t show in my writing it is usually when I am passing judgment on myself or others.

From My Morning Walk

Wind is like the sweet embrace of an old friend whom all your worries melt into and are swept away and for a moment you are at peace.