I am seven years old. My brother is ten. The beating was brutal. My brother is recovering conscious… I believed he was dead.
Something whispers, certainly not nothing. A subtle impetus to choose to stir and rise
It was in those early days when everything seemed technicolor there was that explosion only inward then nothing
No words of wisdom. No clever rhymes. Not this day. Something heavy weighs me down.
I cried again today, and I did not die. I even know why it is I cried today. Because the truth
“Don’t say anything!” spoke the shadow in the doorway. I was seven years of age. I lay limp upon the couch, still recovering from
Neon lights buzzed in staccato out… Sleep seemed something I dare not… I took myself looking to ease my a… keeping to steamy side-streets and… heading for the part of town beyon…
I have suffered much while upon this earth, so aching to belong. To whom, or what, or why?
My beloved, she has abandoned me. What’s left is a stark white canva… that repels application of hue or… Hopelessly, I gaze into the bleak… She is gone,
The old priest gazes out upon his… each head bowed before the sacred… A scarred and broken bodied warrio… seeking inner peace and final abso… An elderly wealthy man of commerce…
Your unexpected words of kindness fell upon this desert dweller’s arid heart
There ain’t no precious gold comin’ outa that there mountain, if all I wanna do is sit and dream of what I’ll do when I get some.
I dreamed of being lost and trappe… in a land of angry fearful liars. There was nowhere to run or hide. I cowered cornered and exhausted, my back against the furthest wall;
Your end? My end? Where the hell’s the middle? You say this. I say that.
Alone, in the same old crowd, trying to ignore this stifling pain. I am but
