These words I cry do not come easily; as if they echo from the cold stone depths of a long forgotten tomb.
Look out there, see them, boy ? They want yer juice. They’re dry, them circlin’ desert… All they want's yer juice, boy.
Who’s gonna throw my pitiful ashes into the holy mother Ganges? Who’s gonna hold it as their sacre… Who’s gonna know the need for this… I’ve seen so many nameless shadows
My father has come to dinner; He does not knock. He is not welcome. He is dead. Yet he insists on joining me
Are you the one I have no words f… Are you the one who seeks the space between these lines? I used to think I’d know you inst… Now I don’t know anything at all.
The essence of night is her infinite darkness, that cannot be measured by space or in time. She’s as large or as small
What lingers within me is ancient… prepared for the worst of all poss… No matter how deeply I rest while… it’s forever awake, coiled and rea… It seems to be from before there w…
Here he comes again, riding tall upon his hellish steed… Dead eyes red, charging straight towards me. No joy in that demonic laugh,
Not so long ago I was convinced you were the culprit, the masked robber of my sacred trust.
Not a poem. I hurt; like a Frankenstein monster. Iron fist. Unrelenting.
I read such woeful words penned by a fallen brother; his message cut me deeply. He prayed to all that’s holy that he might cry again.
He’s been around the block and even toured the world, with scars upon scars to show from many a hard-fought battle. Yet like many old dogs
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.
A subtle movement, a facial expression, a particular posture, the constant hint of danger; as if he were here again,
I hide here behind a genuine misbelief that I am special, I am different I and only I
