a man can be no more ready for Feb… than he is for his own death bringing in the second wave of win… icy flakes whipping in the wind relentlessly low temperature

tired of her obsessions insatiable outbursts of self dragging her around angst smothered mornings culminating into nightly carnivals…

on a good day a poem is just a death threat to e… on a bad day it is a love letter

there she was again in my dreams last night perhaps it is faulty programming a virus or malware but for whatever reason

they’ve never looked as deeply as… into the centers of your alluring and final eyes they’ve never watched you dance slowly and dark like the end…

dressed only in screams showered with water and death life escapes by drain

our savings accounts cry out for m… but we only have so much to give coins jingling away in the pocket a few dirty fives in the wallet the shelves are in need of grocery

the Allen Bradley Tower clock looks at me like an all knowing ey… it tells me “you are home you were not born here

stopped by a red light engine sputters memories he goes with what’s gone

when the rest of the world seemed… and the invisibility of god was to… i turned to a puppet a stuffed brown dog i had named Gr… i confided in him earnestly

she loved him before when life was a game he played and she loves him still

bills soaring like birds costs of living get higher income, falls from nest

watching horror films on vhs with gramma saturday nights

so I am supposed to divulge enough… for someone to make an informed de… and certainly it is understood tha… for a while it’s the decorum of crazy

i thought that god was playing hide and go seek with me but it was just