Went to the hall, talked Kingdom y’all through swapping yarns for we give a darn, then sang our songs.

I huffed my ego, by pouring me into it– She popped my balloon.

Work defines the bee? Hives shoul… But entries belong on pages. Companies write mission memos. Souls pen living stages.

dropplets, dropping down, sinking slowly in soil are Mother’s helpers.

Pick up those cups. Embrace those days full of flavors. Savor every single drop. Drink up.

winter mirror mysterious prints at crosstime junction

Broken by the vampires who suck life from souls with minimums that keep tires spinning in muck.

Snow melts. Waterfalls streaming rivulets off roofs slake the thirsty ground.

He pretends to be a hard boiled eg… He actually has a soft yolk. Sometimes, when he acts tough, he is secretly fluid. If you get to know him, he removes

lowly paid pawns moved and sacrificed on the board– minimum wage slaves

Monsters under our beds are phantoms in our heads. Gurus shout such ghosts at our ear… and fears.

a furious air and neighborhood destruction– somebody’s lost pet