These words are crude utensils, with which to touch you, and be touched;

A sudden gust of bitter wind from somewhere hot and foul, whooped and howled throughout the scattered waste and scrabble down that God-forsaken alley.

Weep for the fallen warriors. Weep for those souls considered collateral damage. Weep for the profiteers. Weep for the deserters.

How does a landed mariner ever tell a living soul about the exquisite rapture of the sultry siren’s song ? As it echoed through the mist,

My love for you is true, though we have never met. I will not lie to you. I will not steal from you. I will not con or cheat you.

I am here now. I have removed my outer garments, placed my trust within your circle… I have come because you promised. You told me you would be here

You play your cards so well. Looks like you’ve had a lot of pra… You seem to have a thorough grasp of all the rules of the game. As you cover every angle,

Ideas and notions, they’re all for the dreamers, worth as much or less than one's considered opinion. You can’t even wrap fish in them.

This trembling grief is for a long lost soul, a young, guileless child I once knew as me. I truly believed

The storm is brewing. I smell it in the air. I am panicking. I fear this tempest might cost my life.

I am awash with tears of mourning for what I thought was dead and go… as though a flood of holy water has broken through the stony dam I contrived to spare this brittle…