A long time ago I wrote a poem for a girl whose beauty and grace was captivating, enthralling but who was also

I swear if I have to read one more poem of someone cutting themselves I’m going to cut myself. Really deep.

Rock 'n’ Roll kept me up nights until the morning lights of the ne… became battered reminders of accos… that threw itself on my near-awake… Scrreeeeccchhhh! Long, Angry Yel…

Everything is a reaction to everything. This sentence is a reaction to the last. The periods at the end are all rea…

An echoing melody breezed through… swinging from the tops of green fo… and melted the defenses of the mou… Everything seemed to disappear thi… I was in myself a different way.

On the shoulders of giants, I stood defiant. Everything about me is original Except I did not create: the language I speak

“You gotta let your poems sing, ma… the old poet said. His red ball cap perched atop his… like a lonely old moment of youth, covering a mind alive with creativ…

I remember the tired streetlights that emitted their hazy glow, discoloring the grass in the park. I remember the playful screams of my fast rambunctious friends,

Anger was beef, and chickens were too, and I wasn’t hungry, at least not anymore. And a four-score speech

The rain was not refreshing. we waited and waited on those barren, thirsty desert hills. But no rain came.

It is a good thing to have words melted at the sunset. Beyond sense, sybaritic,

There’s a little bit of blood on my breathe. My blood, breathing, within vitality

She sat there across the table from me as music blared through the night sky. Heavy majestic clouds,