(2013)
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.
Been wasting away in this hovel for too many days to count; wishing, hoping, scheming, sometimes even praying, for any way to get out.
Seems no way out, but deep within. There’s a resonant voice calling from the depths of my being; I am not what you imagine me to be…
There’s a fearsome beast within, huddled tense and waiting, in the furthest corner of this brittle heart. It lies alert to any signal
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…
For those who only know oasis it must be difficult to fathom another way of life beyond the wal… amidst the shifting dunes. Those that follow gypsy trails
These words are crude utensils, with which to touch you, and be touched;
I come to the village well today, though without a need to drink. My worldly thirst now quenched, with home and hearth supplied. I am here to fill a deeper vessel
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.
I have suffered much while upon this earth, so aching to belong. To whom, or what, or why?
This trembling grief is for a long lost soul, a young, guileless child I once knew as me. I truly believed
A subtle movement, a facial expression, a particular posture, the constant hint of danger; as if he were here again,
trust the one who seeks the truth doubt the one who says he’s found…
From the first remembered breath, I was running to escape. I didn’t need a map. It didn’t matter which direction. It hurt too much for any fool to s…
While in repose, still and silent, it is not nothing that I hear. Subtle whispers